


Temporal Mechanic

by bzarcher



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Aircraft, Alternate Timelines, Back Alley Brawling, Canon Apparent Character Deaths, Canon Gay Character, Canon Gay Relationship, Chronal Disassociation, Double Oh Tracer, F/F, Fall of Overwatch, Finding Some Good Trouble, Grief/Mourning, How They Met, Making a Niche, Military Jargon, Mom Ana Amari, Not Uprising Compliant, Omnic Racism, On His Majesty's Secret Service, Original Character(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, PETRAS Act, Podfic Welcome, Post Fall / Pre-Recall, Practical Pan Emily is Pan, Pre-Fall of Overwatch, Pre-Slipstream, RAF - Freeform, Scientific Technobabble, Secret Marriage, Slipstream - Freeform, Slipstream Accident, Time Skips, Training, Unconventional Grief Counseling, Vigilante, Wakes & Funerals, developing abilities, tiny gay Tracer is gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2017-03-06
Packaged: 2018-09-12 17:09:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 37,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9081802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bzarcher/pseuds/bzarcher
Summary: The newest test pilot assigned to RAF Evaluation Squadron 41 managed to get off on exactly the wrong foot with her new Crew Chief, but they worked things out eventually. But can their relationship survive a secret project, Overwatch, and Time?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sniperct](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sniperct/gifts), [Mizu7](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mizu7/gifts).



_RAF Coningsby  
_ _Lincolnshire, England_

 

Newly minted Flight Lieutenant Lena Oxton walked through the hangars assigned to Test & Evaluation Squadron 41, looking for her new kite.

She’d been thrilled when she’d gotten the phone call yesterday. _Your test scores from Boscombe Down impressed us a great deal. We’re very excited to have you join the evaluation team!_ She’d almost forgotten to ask what the project would be _for_ as she accepted the new assignment, but she’d managed to recover her brains enough to do _that_ , at least.

She’d finally just about given up on finding things on her own when she’d nearly run over an airman in a technician’s coverall coming out of the building. “Sorry, ma’am! Excuse me, ma’am!”

Lena offered a smile and shook her head, letting the sandy haired kid (had to be fresh out of Training Command by the look of him) down easy. “My fault, really. I was too busy looking around – can you tell me where I can find the _Spiteful_ hangar?”

The airman grinned, relaxing as he was let off the hook. “Oh, you’re in luck, it’s this one! Are you our new pilot?”

Lena smiled back with a nod. “I am indeed. Flight Lieutenant Oxton – call me Tracer. And you?”

“Junior technician David McElhinney, ma’am.”

Lena smiled. “All right, David. You were obviously on your way to do something?”

The airman blinked, then nodded. “Ah, yes, ma'am! Chief wanted me to check on our spares order.”

“Right,” Lena tilted her head with a grin, “off you go, then. I’ll see myself in.”

She watched McElhinney head off, then stepped inside, giving her eyes a moment to adjust after moving from the bright summer afternoon to the darker hangar.

She could hear the sound of someone working with an impact wrench, and followed the noise until she saw the reason she’d come to town.

The new Supermarine _Spiteful_ was supposed to be the next great multi-role fighter, in the mold of the old _Eurofighters_ and  _Tornados_ …if they could get it through acceptance trials. Apparently that hadn’t gone so well for the first few pilots assigned to the project, and now Lena would get the chance to succeed where they’d failed.

No pressure.

The plane’s lines were lean and aggressive, and almost as beautiful as the coverall clad bottom sticking out of the portside engine’s maintenance hatch.

Almost as sleek as the glossy mass of red hair that she could see tucked into a bun.

Almost as graceful the pale neck covered in freckles.

Almost as stunning as the very angry pair of green eyes that were suddenly staring into hers.

_Shit._

“Ah…” Lena fumbled a moment, then straightened up. “Flight Lieutenant Lena Oxton. I was asked to report into the _Spiteful_ project hangar when I arrived.”

The redhead put the power tool she’d been holding down on a cart, then wiped her grease stained hands with a shop rag. “Chief Technician Emily Arrington. I take it you’re the one they’ve sent out from Boscombe Down to fly my plane?”

Lena’s back went up automatically at the mechanic’s hostile tone. “Last I checked, yeah. Exactly how is this ‘your’ plane? Supermarine got you on the payroll?”

Arrington snorted. “Don’t they wish. I’ve been spending the last two years shoulder deep in this beast, Lieutenant Oxton, and I’ve been watching people try and fail to get the full potential out of this airframe. I don’t like the idea I’ve wasted so much time and effort…and I’m not terribly excited about handing this aircraft over to someone who just came out of Empire, no matter how good your scores were.”

Lena set her teeth in a falsely cheerful smile. “Well, fortunately for me it wasn’t your decision, Chief. So we can either work together and you can tell me what I need to know about this aircraft, or I’d be happy to request a new chief tech for the project if you’d rather, because I’m not leaving until this plane passes acceptance, or I bend it beyond all recognition.”

They stood there, glaring into each other’s eyes for a long moment before the taller woman smiled very slightly. “Maybe you’ll do after all, Flight Lieutenant.”

An hour later, Lena was sitting at a desk in her new office leafing her way through the operational manual for the _Spiteful_ prototype, Arrington’s explanations of the aircraft’s finer points still ringing in her ears.

 _She’s got a pretty voice_ , Lena had to admit to herself, _shame I’m pretty sure we’ll kill each other before all’s said and done._ Standing and taking a stretch to grab some tea, she shook her head. _Besides, she’s probably straight anyway._

* * *

Six months later, at the impromptu party they’d thrown down at the Fox and Fence to celebrate the _Spiteful.1_ being accepted for production, along with the formal note that the evaluation team would be given an opportunity to review their feedback on suggested improvements with Supermarine for incorporation to the production version of the aircraft over the next month, Lena had to admit they hadn’t killed each other.

“I didn’t expect you’d actually do it, Oxton” the redhead admitted as she brought over two more pints, “but here we are.”

Lena grinned. “I had a lot of help – even if I’m pretty sure you wanted to clock me with a spanner for the first month.”

“Well,” Arrington admitted, “it didn’t hurt that you showed me you knew what you were about pretty quickly.” Then, after a pull of her beer, her green eyes turned dangerously sly. “Or that you started focusing on the work and _not_ staring helplessly at my ass. Not that I didn’t appreciate the compliment.”

Lena felt a flush rise rapidly up her cheeks, “Ah, shit, sorry, you…um…noticed that, did you?”

Arrington somehow managed to look at her in a way that conveyed _Yes, you gay idiot_ so clearly that words were completely unnecessary.

“I didn’t really know who you were, first time I saw you, and after that I was pretty sure you _hated_ me and figured the best thing to do was just get my professional face on and fly the bloody plane.” Lena took another pull of her beer, trying to settle her thoughts and failing spectacularly. “After that it was nice that we started to get along, and you are _still_ bloody gorgeous, by the way, but there’s _regs_ about that kind of thing for a reason and I figured you were probably straight anyway because I don’t _have_ that kind of luck and I really, _really_ need to shut up now.”

_Good job, Tracer! Whip the kite through 50 hours of acceptance trial flights and demonstrate everything from a simulated strike mission to primary avionics failure and recovery? No sweat. Talk to a girl without falling to pieces? Doomed._

Somehow, Arrington was still sitting there, a little smile on her face that Lena had no clue how to interpret. “There’s three things you ought to know, Oxton.”

Lena managed to straighten up and make better eye contact, but her voice was still hesitant. “Yeah?”

Arrington nodded, then raised her hand, counting the points off on her fingers.

“One: As it happens I am _not_ straight. Pansexual, in fact.”

_Oh._

“Two: There _are_ regs about that sort of thing, which means it’s fortunate that I’d decided before you came along to accept a job offer from Supermarine, transitioning from the chief RAF tech role to a paid consultancy at the end of the acceptance project.”

_Oh._

“Three,” Arrington’s smile turned positively wicked, “you may have been staring at my ass, but I have to confess I’ve taken advantage of my opportunities to occasionally stare at yours.”

_OH._

Lena’s eyes felt wide as saucers. “So you’re saying…”

“I’m saying that if you’d like to get a better look, Flight Lieutenant Oxton, I live in an off-base flat.”

“Yeah,” Lena breathed as they stood up from the table, “I think I would indeed, Chief Technician Arrington.”

* * *

The nice thing was that they still worked together really well. Emily had a mind for detail and to think through things thoroughly. Lena was good at sizing up what she needed to know in a crisis situation quickly and then acting decisively – something that had saved her life and more than a few aircraft when things got sticky. They didn’t always work on the same projects day to day, but they both enjoyed talking through their days after.

Lena loved getting to card her fingers through Emily’s long hair, sitting on the couch as they watched a movie or a show. She loved the way the normally cool, collected woman would glow with delight when she managed to surprise Emily with something, and lived to hear the ringing bells of her laugh.

Emily had a real weakness for the way Lena woke up with everything askew, or the way she could still fluster the otherwise confident and cheerful pilot with a little look. She realized early on that Lena had a heart that wanted to help anyone and everyone around her, and noticed the ways she made a point of offering a kind word or a bit of encouragement whenever she noticed someone having a rough time.

They’d gotten to know each other and been comfortable – been happy – when an offer out of the blue came to shake things up.

_Flight Lieutenant Oxton to the commander’s office, please. Flight Lieutenant Oxton to the Base Commander’s office please._

Lena’s first reaction to the tannoy announcement was _Oh god, what did I do?_ She’d been about ready to meet Emily for lunch. So much for that.

It didn’t help when her mobile buzzed with a text, and she pulled it out of her pocket to read “ **Lena, What Did You Do?!** ”

Sighing, she unlocked the screen and composed her reply as she started walking to the admin building.

_No Idea, pretty sure nothing, maybe it’s about a new test plan?_

- _Possibly, but I haven’t heard about any new aircraft coming in._

_Maybe the lads at Vickers finally put one over on you?_

_-You can sleep on the couch if you like, Lieutenant Oxton._

_Ha. I’ll let you know what's going on soon as I find out. Love you._

_-Love you._

The Commander’s secretary waved her directly in, so Lena took a deep breath, walked through the door, and snapped off her best parade ground salute. “You wanted to see me, sir?”

“You can stand at ease, Oxton.” Group Captain Whittle returned her salute, then gestured to a woman in blue fatigues that Lena had completely managed to miss walking in. “We have a special guest in from Geneva. She's got something of an offer for you.”

The copper skinned woman had her iron-grey hair in a fat braid, with a distinctive tattoo under one eye. Even if she hadn’t been wearing a beret with the Overwatch insignia, Lena would have recognized her instantly.

“You’re Captain Amari, right? Overwatch? It’s an honor to meet you, ma’am!”

Amari smiled, breaking up her severe expression with a bright smile. “That’s right, Lieutenant. I’m not used to getting recognized quite so quickly.”

“I’ve always followed Overwatch – I mean, you’re heroes. All of you.”

Amari’s smile turned to a broad grin. “Well, it seems like you’re making my pitch for me, then. How would you like to be one yourself?”

Lena blinked. “I’m…I’m sorry? Last I checked Overwatch doesn’t maintain a fighter arm. You normally request assets from the forces you’re working with on deployment.”

“We don’t,” Amari confirmed with a conspiratorial look in her eye, “at least not officially. Not yet.”

The Group Captain took over from there. “Oxton, you’re about to be cleared for Codeword classified information. Even if you decide not to take the offer you’re about to be presented with, this is NOT to be discussed with anyone not cleared for it, is that understood?”

Lena nodded. “Right, sir, I do understand, sir.”

“Good. Sit down, would you?” Lena settled into a chair while Amari did the same, and the Group Captain pulled a binder from his desk.

“The RAF has been partnering with Overwatch for a top secret development project based out of their facility at Gibraltar. A new type of fighter with an unprecedented design. Captain Amari is here because it’s finally reached the flight trials stage – and we’d like you to be the pilot.”

Lena felt like her eyes were going to pop out of her head. “Join Overwatch, then? Fly this new fighter?”

“It’s not just flying,” Amari noted, “you’ll be learning a whole new way to fight. This fighter doesn’t just fly – it will be able to appear anywhere, instantly, thanks to the Slipstream drive.”

Lena tilted her head slightly at that description. “Appear – like teleportation?”

Captain Amari grinned wolfishly. “ _Exactly_. It’s going to take a pilot with incredible reflexes and awareness to fly her. The same kind of talents you demonstrated on the _Spiteful_ project. Which makes you the perfect choice.”

Lena took a deep breath. “This…this is an honor. I’m…I want to take this. More than anything. But with your permission I need to speak to someone first.”

Whittle nodded. “I can have Ms. Arrington called up here if you like.”

“Oh.” Lena blushed. “You…ah…you knew, then, sir?”

“Lieutenant,” the Group Captain observed dryly, “do you have any idea how much money changed hands on this base after you two left the Fox and Fence together?” Lena felt herself blush to the tips of her ears as the base commander continued on in a more serious tone. “I do appreciate that you waited until Ms. Arrington was technically no longer part of the service before the two of you decided to get on with it, and have maintained a highly professional standard of interactions while you are on duty…but neither of of you are terribly good at hiding the fact that you are in a relationship.”

“Well,” Lena smiled weakly, “in that case, yes, I would like the chance to discuss it with her. How much am I allowed to say?”

Captain Amari's expression turned to something a bit gentler. “As it happens, we plan to give the _Slipstream_ pilot the right to assemble her own support staff…”


	2. Chapter 2

_Watchpoint: Gibraltar_

As it turned out, stealing McElhinney for the _Slipstream_ project had been fairly easy, but Supermarine had balked at seconding Emily to Overwatch after finding out that BAE and Vickers were the main contractors on the fighter project.

Emily had solved the issue by tendering her resignation on the spot.

After some discussions on the best way to go about things, Chief Technician Emily Arrington, RAF Reserve, was informed that she had been returned to active status, then seconded to the Overwatch technical support branch, backdated to the same afternoon Lena had taken the offer to join the _Slipstream_ project.

To avoid provoking her former employers or violating the non-compete clause in her old contract, Emily couldn’t work on the _Slipstream_ directly, but she’d found a role working with the teams who supported the _Orca_ transport aircraft, and made some suggestions to improve flight dynamics and landings that made her a hero to most of the organization’s tactical personnel within a few months of their arrival.

Lena split her time between simulator practices, familiarization flights with a copy of the airframe that lacked the specialized teleportation equipment, and trying to give herself an advanced course on quantum physics with the help of the project’s chief scientist…who happened to be a gorilla.

Out of everything that was going on, _that_ was the bridge too far for Emily.

“You can’t be serious.” Offering a skeptical look over the rim of her teacup, the redhead took a sip before trying to continue on. “That…Lena, I love you, but did you hit your head on something today?”

Lena leaned back in her chair with a grin. “It’s the truth, I swear! His name is Winston and apparently he’s the boffin who made the big breakthrough in…um…” Pulling a notepad from her pants pocket, she flipped through the pages until she found the right one. “Predictive Matter to Energy Transference. I didn’t understand half of the math, but the gist is that it’s the way the drive puts everything where it’s supposed to be. I guess there have been some really limited teleportation experiments in labs, but they required fixed stations on either end to make sure you came out the other side. This system can take the plane – which is, of course, in motion, seeing as I’ll be flying it – and puts it where you’re targeting without requiring a receiver or anything. So the plane goes ‘boop’ and –”

Emily interrupted with a raised eyebrow. “Is ‘boop’ the technical term?”

Lena stuck her tongue out, getting a soft laugh in return. “Yes. Obviously. Anyway, the plane will reappear, still flying, with all the momentum you had in the moment you left. The tricky part is making sure that the conventional engines will keep breathing. The miniature drones they tested the small scale versions with kept going, but you know how much it takes to keep a full scale turbofan happy at military power. Nobody’s quite sure if the plane will take air with it when it goes –”

“Boop."

“Mmhmm, exactly, or if there’s enough air…wherever it is…for a split second to keep them going, or if we’ll have to figure out a way that keeps it from flaming out. One idea that’s been mentioned is that we might have to install some kind of rechargeable reservoir to keep providing combustible air.”

Emily frowned thoughtfully. “That’s an interesting technical problem – wish I was working on it. However, that mostly convinces me you’ve been taking good notes in lectures. Not that you work with a gorilla.”

Lena smiled. “Well, if you want to be _technical_ , he is not a gorilla.”

Emily raised an eyebrow, waiting for the punchline.

“Winston told me that he’s a genetically modified _space gorilla_. From the moon.”

Emily stared, completely dumbfounded. “You…you are making this up as you go along, aren’t you?”

“Swear I’m not,” Lena assured her, then took the kettle to refill her mug of tea. ”He doesn’t leave the lab much, which seems kind of sad. I’m gonna see if I can get him to open up a little, but tell you what, come over to the _Slipstream_ hangar on your lunch and I’ll introduce him to you.”

“A giant space gorilla. Scientist. From the moon.” Emily shook her head. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

* * *

Lena put her hands over Emily’s eyes as she gently steered her into the _Slipstream_ lab. “This way, if anyone from Supermarine complains you were here, I can tell them you didn’t see anything!”

Emily chuckled softly, playing along. “I’m almost certain that wouldn’t hold up in court.”

There was a rumbling chuckle, and a third voice joined the conversation – deep and resonant, like a tuba that could speak (with an American accent, apparently). “I don’t think it’ll come to that, fortunately.”

Lena took her hands away from her girlfriend’s eyes, grinning like a loon, her voice filled with delight. “Here we are!”

Emily blushed with embarrassed shock, her eyes going wide as she stared at the massive figure who stood in front of her, draped in a labcoat, wearing thick framed glasses and (to Lena’s eternal delight) a red and white striped necktie.

“You must be Emily,” Winston smiled as he stepped forward, offering her a hand, “it’s lovely to meet you. Lena’s told me quite a bit about you.”

Taking the hand, Emily shook it firmly, her aplomb settling back into place after her earlier shock. “Nothing _too_ terrible, I hope?”

Lena put her hands on her hips, her voice shrill with mock offense. “Oi! What kind of a girlfriend do you think I am?”

Winston smiled at the byplay, shaking his head. “No, nothing terrible at all. She said you’re incredibly brilliant and an excellent problem solver, and everything I’ve heard from some of the team over on the Tactical side of things about your work on the _Orca_ s bears that out.”

“Well,” Emily admitted with a modest smile, “I’m glad to have helped. It’s not what I originally hoped to do when Captain Amari told us about the _Slipstream_ , but it beats getting a job as a spanner monkey over at the airport.” Her eyes widened as she realized what she’d just said, clapping her hands over her mouth. “ _Oh my god._ ”

Winston’s face went completely flat and neutral and Lena bit her lip to keep from spoiling the moment, Emily turning progressively darker shades of red with mortification before Winston suddenly exploded with laughter, freeing Lena to giggle at the situation as well.

“It’s all right, Emily – I knew what you meant, and besides…if you want to get really technical,” Winston’s voice was suddenly perfectly deadpan, “I’m a giant space gorilla scientist. From the moon.”

Emily laughed despite her embarrassment, bringing a hand up and running it through her hair. “She told you that one, did she?” 

Winston winked. “Trust me, you’re not the first person to be a bit skeptical.”

Before Emily left to head back to the main hangar, she exchanged hellos with McElhinney, still adjusting to his role as the crew chief, and extended an invitation for Winston to join them for dinner sometime.

It look a few more weeks of gentle prodding, but eventually they managed to get the scientist out of his lab for dinner and to watch a movie at their flat. They realized, though, that aside from the jokes about where a 500 pound gorilla would sit, Winston had issues with a lot of human scale furniture and doorways, and despite the way he seemed to genuinely enjoy spending time with them outside of work, he was clearly uncomfortable.

So they began stopping by to visit _him_ on the weekends instead.

Two months after they’d arrived in Gibraltar to become part of Overwatch, Emily joined Winston in the Watchpoint’s ATC tower, watching the full feature _Slipstream_ prototype taxi out to the runway, Lena’s blue, white, and yellow striped helmet just visible through the amber tinted cockpit.

“Technically the plane isn’t complete,” Winston explained, “because we haven’t installed the teleportation matrix or spatial manipulation controls that go with it, but I thought you would like to watch her take the production prototype up for the first time.”

Emily smiled, leaning forward so she could get a good view of the runway. “Absolutely.” She looked back to where the scientist smiled at her, feeling a blush rise on her cheeks. “I love watching her fly, you know. She belongs in the sky. I’ve never seen anyone get as much out of a plane as she does, and when she comes back…the light in her eyes after each flight is half the reason I fell so hard for her.”

Winston smiled. “If I’m honest, some of her scores on reflex and response tests – let alone what she does in the air – set records around here.”

“I almost didn’t believe them myself, when I read her file after she was assigned to the _Spiteful_ ,” Emily agreed, “In a way…she always belonged here, not back at Boscombe Down or Coningsby. She’s one of the best in the world. Maybe _the_ best.”

Before Winston could answer, Lena’s voice came over the tannoy. “ATC, this is X-Ray Foxtrot Five Two Five, requesting takeoff clearance for performance flight test.”

The voice of the air traffic controller on duty answered a moment later: “X-Ray Foxtrot Five Two Five, this is Gibraltar ATC, you are cleared for departure on runway two three. Visibility is ten kilometers, broken clouds at 4300 AGL.”

“Roger, thank you ATC, X-Ray Foxtrot Five Two Five departing on runway two three.”

The blue-trimmed fighter’s engines came to full military power, and moments later it was screaming into the skies.

Emily arranged to be waiting in the _Slipstream_ ’s hangar when Lena returned to the ground, watching as the fighter was towed back so it could be examined and serviced. If someone from Supermarine got word and really wanted to complain that she was violating her non-compete, she’d tell them to fuck off and go back to kissing her girl.

The canopy opened as the tow came to a halt, McElhinney wheeling a ladder over as Lena doffed her helmet, running hands through her hair before swinging out of the cockpit and making her way down to the ground.

“So,” the pilot asked with dancing eyes, “how’d I look up there?”

“Amazing,” the mechanic answered, and backed it up by seizing her for brief but heartfelt kiss, “you were dancing up there. How was it to fly?”

Lena grinned impishly. “Give me another kiss, and I’ll tell you.”

Between their conversation in the hangar and their discussion after dinner back at the flat, it was a very extensive debriefing.

* * *

Two months later, Lena Oxton stood in her bedroom dressed in the special flight suit they’d issued her for the first teleportation test flight. From boots to her waist, it was basically a normal flight suit, but she wore something very much like an armored vest, shoulder pauldrons, and breastplate that Winston had explained contained instruments and sensors to help the _Slipstream_ ‘remember’ her position in the cockpit.

“I feel a bit like one of those old _Dan Dare_ comics, you know.” Turning so she could look at her profile, she posed this way and that, examining her reflection as Emily sat on the bed, lips quirked in a little smile. “Lena Oxton, pilot of the future! How’s that sound, eh?”

Emily stood and pulled a thin box from the top drawer of her dresser. “It suits you, but I think you’re missing something.”

Lena turned, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

Emily opened the box, pulling out a white silk scarf. “Mmmhm. Hold still, would you?”

Lena dutifully waited as Emily draped the scarf around her neck, then wrapped it carefully around the suit’s wide gorget before knotting it off, leaving a trailing length of fabric falling over her shoulder.

“There,” Emily nodded with satisfaction before putting her arms around her lover’s neck, “now you’re perfect.”

Lena leaned forward to meet her in a tender kiss. “I think you might be biased, pet.”

Emily smirked, her eyes dancing. “You’re my girlfriend, Lieutenant Oxton. I’m allowed to be biased.”

Lena’s hands wrapped around Emily’s waist, her lips heartbeats away from the redhead’s mouth. “Anything else you’re allowed to do?”

“I have a few ideas…”

* * *

No matter how long she lived, Emily Arrington would never be able to enjoy the 18th of August ever again. Not after August 18th, 2068.

They’d driven from the flat to the Watchpoint the morning of the _Slipstream_ ’s first teleportation test. Emily made sure the scarf she’d given Lena had been knotted so it would stay out of the way of her helmet and safety equipment, then gave her a firm kiss before sending her off to the hangar. “Go and make history, darling.”

She’d planned to be in the ATC for the test, but was called to the _Orca_ VTOL pad after one of the transports had made a bad landing – basically crashed due to one of the massive craft’s landing struts giving way – and found herself helping to get the aircraft out of the shattered tarmac and pull wounded from the wreck instead.

She’d been so consumed by that task that she didn’t realize that it was over an hour past when the _Slipstream_ test program was supposed to conclude, and there had been no sign of Lena. No word from the tower. Surely for such a historic achievement they’d say _something_ , wouldn’t they?

Confused, she’d begun to make her way across the base to the _Slipstream_ hangar when Winston intercepted her, his expression grave. “Emily, I’ve been looking for you – I need you to come to Captain Amari’s office with me.”

“Winston?” Emily blinked, her quiet misgivings suddenly turning into an icy fear that gripped her heart. “Where’s Lena? I was helping the emergency crews over on the pad after Baker piled it in. What…what’s happened?” Had she crashed? Was she in hospital? Had the conventional engines failed post-teleportation after all, despite the scale tests assuring Winston that they wouldn’t? Was there a bad landing?

Winston gently placed one of his huge hands on her shoulder, his eyes filled with an infinite sadness. “Emily…she’s gone.”

Emily Arrington’s world ended at precisely 13:39 hours CET, August 18th, 2068, as that simple sentence echoed in her mind over and over.

“…what do you mean she’s _gone?”_


	3. Chapter 3

She’d listened to this recording a thousand times, now.

Maybe she’d finally hear some clue as to what happened after a thousand and one.

 

_ATC, X-Ray Foxtrot Five Two Five: I’ve reached planned test altitude. Requesting GO / NO GO for activating teleportation matrix._

Lena sounded perfectly calm. The woman in her element, undisputed master of her skies. Everything in the planned program to that point had been smooth as silk.

_X-Ray Foxtrot Five Two Five, ATC: You are GO for activation._

_Roger, thank you ATC: Initiating activation now._

_X-Ray Foxtrot Five Two Five, this is Winston. Telemetry shows matrix is online, please confirm?_

_Roger, Winston. X-Ray Five Two Five has four blue lights. Matrix power reading one hundred percent._

_Thank you, X-Ray Five Two Five. Stand by._

_Sky One, ATC: Do you have tracking on X-Ray Five Two Five?_

_ATC, Sky One: Tracking confirmed._

_Chase Flight, ATC: Please confirm visual on X-Ray Five Two Five._

_ATC, Chase One: Confirmed._

_ATC, Chase Two: Got her!_

_X-Ray Five Two Five, this is Horus. You are clear to proceed. Make history, Tracer._

 

Captain Amari sounded so proud. This was supposed to be a triumphant moment.

It  _should_ have been a triumphant moment.

Emily bit her lip until she tasted blood. She knew what was coming next.

 

 _Thank you, Horus. X-Ray Five Two Five targeting for initial jump. Setting destination for western perimeter of test area. Destination locked. Drive array online. Initiating jump in 3_ … _2_ … _1_ … _JUMP!_

_ATC, Sky One: We have no tracking on X-Ray Foxtrot Five Two Five._

_ATC: Chase One: No Visual!_

_ATC: Chase Two: No eyes on X-Ray Five Two Five._

_ATC to all test craft: We confirm loss of signal and visual. Stand by._

_Winston to ATC: We are not receiving telemetry. No indication of X-Ray Five Two Five returning from jump._

_X-Ray Five Two Five, ATC: Are you receiving?_

_X-Ray Five Two Five, ATC: Please respond._

_X-Ray Five Two Five, ATC: Tracer, please respond._

The recording went silent for 30 seconds.

_ATC to all stations: We have lost X-Ray Five Two Five. Repeat, we have lost X-Ray Five Two Five. Horus requests all aircraft return to base immediately. Acknowledge._

_ATC, Sky One: Acknowledged._

_ATC, Chase One: Returning to base._

_ATC, Chase Two: Coming in._

Captain Amari’s voice, full of anger and heartbreak: _Anyone not required for the accident investigation is to clear the room as soon as those planes are on the ground. No flights go in or out of this base until I give approval_ … _and someone get Chief Arrington up here before she finds out from anyone else._

 

The recording ended with a soft beep.

There still wasn’t anything useful in it.

Emily reached out and hit play again.

Amari had offered her a leave of absence until the accident investigation returned a formal report, and to authorize a bereavement leave once they confirmed what they already knew:

Lena Oxton was dead.

She didn’t even remember who took her home afterwards. She’d asked Winston if she could have this recording a few days later.

She hadn’t spoken to anyone since he'd dropped it off with her. Who was there to talk to?

What would they say?

Lena Oxton was dead.

* * *

She didn’t know where she was.

It didn’t feel like she was anywhere.

The cockpit was gone, but there was still a sense of _motion_. Like she was still flying through this swirling _nothing_ that surrounded her.

She couldn’t hear engines.

She didn’t feel anything past her fingertips.

She tried to look down at herself. Was she still wearing her helmet? It didn’t feel like it. Was her flight suit there? She wasn’t sure.

Where was her scarf? Em would be upset if she’d lost it…

There was a sound, just at the edge of her hearing.

Voices. Words. Radios?

No…not just that. Beneath it.

 _Listen_.

Emily was crying.

_Where are you, love?_

* * *

Emily didn’t know when she’d started crying. The tears came and went as she listened, over and over again. She listened until she fell asleep. She listened after she woke up.

She hadn’t showered in…well. Not in a while. She’d finally forced herself to eat some digestives and a cup of tea when the physical pain of her hunger had transcended her lack of appetite. Had that been yesterday? Two days ago? She didn't really recall.

She’d barely managed the effort to move from their bed to the couch.

There was…a _sound_. It wasn’t the recording. It wasn’t like anything Emily had ever heard, honesty. Like a knife being scraped across taut steel wire. She opened her eyes, thinking that the laptop she’d been playing the recording on had crashed.

Amber eyes stared back at her. Dark hair all askew, just as she always was.

Lena’s lips moved but there was only that same sharp sound, and a moment later she was gone.

Emily wrapped her hands around her biceps and hugged herself until she shook.

_You’ve gone mad, Emily Arrington. You’re hallucinating. You’re hearing things that aren’t there. You’re seeing your dead girlfriend in your living room. You keep listening to that dead woman’s voice because you can’t let go of her, and now this!_

Lena wouldn’t want this. Emily knew that. Lena would have wanted her to find a way to get back on her feet and figure out what she could do next.

She’d been about to start the recording again when there was a knock at the door. For a long moment, Emily considered just letting them knock until they gave up, but she had enough manners left to know that was wrong. With a sigh, she pulled herself to her feet, pausing as she got a look at herself in the hall mirror.

Her nightgown was rumpled and creased but didn’t have any obvious stains, at least. Her hair looked flat and dull. Her skin was better described as sallow than pale, except for the dark circles under her red, puffy eyes.

Well. That was ghastly, but what did she expect? What could _anyone_ expect?

The knock came again. If anything, it sounded more insistent. _Shit._

“Hang on!” Her voice was rusty and ragged, but apparently whomever was banging at her door understood it, because they’d stopped once she spoke.

She took the last steps to the door and undid the deadbolt. When she opened the door to see Captain Amari in her dress uniform, she knew what had happened. She’d known it was coming – had been drowning in what was coming – but she still fell to her knees before her CO could speak a word as it all crashed down on her.

There had been the slimmest chance that perhaps Lena would be declared MIA. Or that somehow, maybe, there would have been a miracle and the bloody plane would reappear and Lena would wonder why everyone looked so surprised.

There was no longer any ambiguity. There would be no miracle. Lena Oxton was dead.

Emily heard booted feet stepping inside, and the door being shut.

Gloved hands slipped under her arms and lifted her off the floor. She probably ought to fight that, really, but that required mental and physical energy she didn’t possess.

Amari was half carrying, half dragging her…into the bedroom?

 _That’s wildly inappropriate. I’m a_ … _can you be a widow if you didn’t actually get married yet?_

_I was going to ask her when she came back, damn it all._

_I should have asked her before. Damn me._

She rose out of self-flagellation enough to realize she’d been deposited on the bed. Amari had gone into the bathroom? That was odd.

She heard the shower start. Why was the Captain doing that?

Emily barely registered the darker skinned woman returning until she was leaning over her, her beret clad head making for a fascinating silhouette thanks to the light fixture in the ceiling fan.

“I’m not actually sure if you can hear me right now, Emily…but I’m sorry I needed to do this.”

Emily felt the Captain picking her up again and closed her eyes. Whatever this was about, she didn’t care. Maybe Amari was going to send her to hospital and call it a day.

She realized what was going on with sudden, terrible clarity in the same instant that Captain Amari tossed her into the freezing cold shower.

She shrieked wordlessly from the shock of the cold, every nerve suddenly lighting up in outrage.

She tried to stand and pull herself out through the open shower door, but Amari pushed her back in. “No. Not yet.”

Emily felt her teeth start chattering from the cold, her hair clinging to her back, the nightgown completely soaked and sticking to her skin like wet plaster. “Haaaaaaahh!”

She tried to push past the older woman instead, and found herself knocked square on her ass, right back in the frigid stream.

Amari gave her a thoughtful look. “Mm. Almost, but not quite.”

 _That_ was enough of whatever the _Hell_ this woman thought she was doing, CO or not. Emily pulled herself up to her feet, eyes blazing, and this time she didn’t bother with trying to go past. She put her shoulder down and charged, feeling a satisfying thump as she slammed into the Egyptian’s chest, screaming at the top of her lungs as she drove her to the floor. **_“You!_ ** _**BITCH!** **"**_

 _“ That _ is more like it.” Amari stated, surprisingly happy, then did something to twist them over, ending with Emily flat on her back and Amari staring down at her with a smirk. “Welcome back, Chief Arrington.”

Still shivering, Emily stared up with incredulous anger. “ _Fuck you_ , ma’am _._ ”

Amari chuckled. “One of the most remarkable things about the British men and women I’ve served with is that you’ll curse at me for hours, but still remember to use military courtesy. Do they teach you that in Basic?”

Emily growled wordlessly at her, to Amari’s apparent delight.

“I’ll turn the heat up on the shower. Get out of that wet, filthy thing, Emily. You’re going to get cleaned up and put on fresh clothes, while I make you something to eat.”

Emily finished showering, drying herself thoroughly, and dressing in a warm jumper and leggings as she attempted to ward off the lingering chill before making her way to the kitchen. To her surprise,  the Captain had somehow managed to find rice, carrots, a bit of greens, and chicken, and was assembling them into some kind of lunch.

Emily frowned as the aromas of cooking made their way into her nose. Her stomach rumbled angrily, leaving her suddenly quite aware of how long it had been since she’d really made an effort to feed herself, “What…what is this?”

“You’re in no condition to cook,” Amari failed to answer, “and you need to eat. There’s hot water in your kettle.”

“Thank you,” Emily replied automatically, then put her efforts into fixing herself a cup of PG Tips before she tried again, “ _why_ are you doing this?”

The older woman had apparently taken the time to figure out where the flatware was kept, because she walked to the appropriate cupboard and took down a plate, loading it with rice, meat, and vegetables before she answered. “A few different reasons, if I’m honest. The obvious one is that you’re not the first person that I’ve seen shut down that way, and I know where it can lead if someone doesn’t try to help.”

Emily snorted. “Some help.”

“It got you off the floor, didn’t it?” Putting the plate down at the kitchen table, Amari found a fork, then tapped it against the tabletop. “Sit. Eat.”

She considered refusing out of sheer mulishness, but another painful rumble from her belly changed her mind. Sitting, Emily picked up the fork and took an experimental bite. “That’s…very nice. Thank you.”

“I thought something simple would be best.” The Captain had taken off her uniform jacket and beret, revealing a simple white blouse, her braid now trailing down her back rather than turned over her shoulder. “Keep going. You look as if you haven’t eaten in days.”

Emily had to admit that was true. She polished off most of the chicken and veg before deciding to try a bit more conversation. “What were the others?”

Amari swallowed the sip of tea she’d taken from the mug she’d fixed herself while Emily ate. “Others?”

Emily described a vague gesture around the room with her fork. “You said there were several reasons you did this…are _doing_ this. What were the others?”

“Ah.” The Captain considered her answer for a moment. “Part of it is the fact that I brought the two of you here. I can’t bring her back, Emily. But I can make sure you don’t follow her into the grave.”

Emily looked away. “I don’t honestly know what I think about that.”

“You’re young,” Amari said softly, “and right now…it feels as if there’s no reason to go on without her. That it can’t ever be as good, or as special as your life was with her. But I promise it’s not true. Life will be _different_ , yes, but it isn’t over.”

Something in her tone made Emily really look at the Captain. “You sound like a woman speaking from experience.”

“I wish I could tell you that Lena was the first soldier I’d lost, or the first person close to me that I will have to bury. But I’d be lying.” Amari’s eyes grew distant, and Emily realized that for the first time, she truly _looked_ like the thirty-odd year combat veteran she was – a woman well into her fifties who had been on one battlefield or another since her late teens. Most of the time she wore her age effortlessly…but in that moment, each and every year seemed to show its weight.

“I…I’m sorry.” Emily suddenly became quite interested in pushing the last of her rice around the plate. “That was a bit too much.”

“No,” the Captain gently corrected her, “it wasn’t. You needed to hear it. Sometimes the only way to know you’ll survive something like this is to talk to someone who already made it through.”

Emily closed her eyes for a long moment. “Thank you doesn’t feel like nearly enough to say to that.”

Amari smiled. “It’s good enough.”

The silence that descended was less oppressive, now. The thick blanket of grief that Emily had been allowing to smother her seemed to lose a few layers. She’d finished a second helping of food and another cup of tea to go with it before the Captain spoke again:

“There’s one last reason. Maybe my most selfish, but also my most important.”

Emily made eye contact, silently wondering what that meant, exactly.

“I have a daughter. Fareeha. She’s…mm. Perhaps a year older than you, now? A few more than Lena, but not much. We…are not on the best of terms, at present. We haven’t been for some time. But it’s hard for me to not see a bit of her in both of you.” She sipped her tea, then put the mug down on the table, gazing into the dregs as she spoke again. “If she had been going through a loss like this, I would want to be there for her, but I do not know if she would allow it. But I _can_ be there for you, Emily. We all can, if you will let us.”

Emily surprised herself when she realized tears had begun to fall on her plate. She hadn’t thought she had many of those left.

The older woman stood, placing a caring hand on her shoulder, letting Emily cry herself out again.

“I…sorry. I thought…I thought I was done with this.”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Amari assured her, “this is what I came here for.”

Emily nodded, then took a deep breath. “With the investigation complete…who will be handling services?”

“We’ll arrange things here. I know Lena didn’t have family to speak of.”

“I’m afraid not, no.” _I was hoping to change that, eventually._

“Mm. If it’s not too much to ask…was she particularly religious? Are you?”

Emily shrugged. “My parents took us to the Church of England services on Christmas and Easter when I was growing up. Sunday schools when I was very young. Once the Omnic Crisis began, my mother didn’t find much comfort in it, especially after my father was killed in a bombing raid.”

The Captain nodded. It wasn’t unusual to hear that kind of answer from the generation who had been born just before or during the war.

“Lena…” Emily’s voice nearly broke on her name, but she pulled herself together after a deep breath. “Lena enjoyed the _spirit_ of Christmas, and the holidays, but she wasn’t particularly attached to the religious aspects.”

Amari considered that. “What would _you_ find comforting?”

Emily shrugged. “I think…I would rather believe in some chance of seeing her again than none at all.”

The Captain nodded, collecting her beret and jacket. “I’ll make arrangements with the diocese so we can have services at Holy Trinity. It will probably take a few days to finalize things. Until then, I left a note on your refrigerator with my private number. If you need anything – _anything at all_ – I want you to call. If you can’t reach me, have them put you through to Winston.”

_Oh. God._

Emily stood, a shameful blush rising on her face. “How is Winston doing? I didn’t even _think_ …he must be devastated."

Amari sighed. “Sadly, it’s not the first time he’s lost someone close to him, either. He’s not in the best of spirits, I admit, but he’s been trying to reconstruct what happened from what little data we have.”

“Oh.” Emily looked away for a moment, then back to the Captain as an idea struck. “I know I’m still considered to be on leave, but…do I have permission to visit the base? I think I might like to check in on him tomorrow.”

Amari gently placed a hand on her shoulder again. “Of course you may.”

* * *

She’d tried to find her.

She thought she’d seen Emily’s eyes look into hers for just a moment.

She’d tried to tell her she was _there_ , but before she could say anything she’d felt as if she’d been pulled away by a current. When she finally broke away again, she’d found herself in a house she didn’t know, carrying out duties in a kitchen like she was in some old drama.

_Listen._

She would find her again. She’d push against the current for a year if she had to.

_Em, I won’t leave you._

_I’ll find you, I swear._

There.

Voices.

_I’m coming, love._

_Please, wait for me._

* * *

After discussions with the Rector from Holy Trinity and Ana, who had insisted that Emily could and should use her first name under these circumstances, they’d decided to hold a funeral service without communion rites, since Lena wouldn’t have been likely to participate in those, anyway.

Ana had gently suggested that she could wear civilian clothes if she liked, but Emily had found the thought of putting on the Overwatch dress blues (along with the appropriate decorations and insignia she still had the right to wear from the RAF) more comforting than the idea of finding appropriate mourning garb.

They’d met because of their service. Emily would have felt like she was minimizing that, otherwise.

Winston sat on one side of her, Ana on the other. Mac and some of the other lads who had come to Gibraltar from Coningsby filled the pew behind her. Staff from the _Slipstream_ project. Friends they’d both made in their time here. Group Captain Whittle and several others from T &E 41 had surprised her by flying in that morning, but she’d been grateful they’d made the effort.

As music of the processional faded, the Rector stood behind the empty casket, placing his hand against the brushed metal lid inlaid with the Overwatch insignia.

“We brought nothing into the world, and we take nothing out. The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord.”

Several attendees crossed themselves. Emily bowed her head as the mourners offered their response: “ _Amen_.”

“Blessed are those who mourn,” and she knew the priest was looking to her, “for they will be comforted.”  

“ _Amen_.”

He raised his arms over the casket, bringing his palms up towards the skies. “We have come here today to remember before God our sister Lena; to give thanks for her life; to commend her to God our merciful redeemer and judge; to commit her body to be buried, and to comfort one another in our grief.”

There was a brief moment of silence before the mourners took their seats, and Emily felt tears stinging in her eyes again. She didn’t bother trying to stop their flow as the priest spoke once the next verse of the service.

“Since we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so, through Jesus, God will bring with him those who have died. So we will be with the Lord for ever.

Therefore encourage one another with these words: God of all consolation, your Son Jesus Christ was moved to tears at the grave of Lazarus his friend. Look with compassion on your children in their loss; give to troubled hearts the light of hope and strengthen in us the gift of –”

The next word was supposed to be _faith_ , according to the Book of Common Prayer that Emily held open on her lap, but instead her head shot up as she heard that same strange _sound_ that had accompanied her hallucination of Lena on the day Ana had come to the flat.

Winston had risen from where he’d settled against the pew, his jaw dropping.

Emily turned and saw Lena walking towards her, her movements jerky and oddly uncoordinated. Like she had been taped walking against a stiff wind, or through thick mud, and then the footage rewound and sped up over and over until it became a jumbled mess of stumbling movement.

She appeared to still be wearing the _Slipstream_ ’s flight suit, but for a moment she seemed to shimmer, reappearing in something like a maid’s costume from a period drama. Then something like a punk rocker’s outfit from old music videos. Then a strange orange costume with a Shearing jacket and some kind of computerized thing on her chest, then finally snapped back into focus, the flight suit looking exactly as it had the day she’d disappeared.

Emily barely noticed that others – including the Rector – were running from the sanctuary while she stood up and walked towards the apparition, drawn to the disappearing and reappearing woman like iron to a magnet.

“Lena? Lena I’m _here._ ”

She didn’t know what she was seeing. She didn’t give a damn. She held out her hand as Lena desperately lunged towards her again…and their fingers passed through each other with a bizarre tingling, slipping sensation. Like she’d been trying to grab a wet, electrified rock.

Lena’s mouth opened in a horrified cry, but what came out sounded as disjointed and incomprehensible as her movements. The anguished look in her eyes was enough to convince Emily that Lena had realized they couldn’t touch, and was as pained as she was.

“We’ll fix this. I swear somehow we’ll _fix this_ , all right?”

That strange metallic sound was the only answer she’d receive, her lover disappearing in a final shimmer of blue light, sudden silence falling in the wake of the ghost’s disappearance.

Winston shuffled slowly over, Ana not far behind him.

Emily held her hand out to where Lena had disappeared from for a long moment before letting her arm fall.

“Emily?” Winston had hushed his voice, but his concern came through quite clearly.

Emily was shocked at how calm her voice sounded when she spoke. “Please tell me that you saw what I just saw.”

“We did,” Ana confirmed, “everyone did.”

“ _She’s alive_ ,” Emily breathed, then turned to face them, “Oh my god, Winston, _she’s_ _alive_.”

“She _appears_ to be alive,” Winston held up a hand before Emily could interrupt him, “I don’t want to be cruel, Emily, but we don’t know what we just saw – yet. But I swear we’re going to find out.”

Ana nodded. “Winston, what do you need?”

“I’ll want to gather some instruments from my lab to try and measure if what we saw left any kind of detectable phenomena. Review everything we’ve got from the teleportation matrix development. Gather more data…and then try to put it all together and see what we can do.”

“Fine.” Ana looked to Emily. “Chief Arrington, your bereavement leave is canceled and you’re assigned to Winston as his personal assistant.”

Emily stood to attention with a sharp salute. “Ma’am.”

The Captain returned the salute, then looked back to the chief scientist, determination flashing in her eyes. “Winston, I am reactivating the _Slipstream_ project effective immediately. Unlimited budget, whatever you need, you get. Our highest priority as of now is to successfully execute this rescue operation, and if Jack wants to argue with me about that he’s welcome to come down from Geneva and try.”

Winston smiled despite the gravity of the situation. “Let Reyes know – he might pay to see it.” As Ana returned his smile, he looked back to the spot on the cathedral’s floor where Lena had so recently appeared. “We’ll get started as soon as I can get my equipment.”

“Good,” Ana nodded, her dark eyes flashing, “get our pilot home.”


	4. Chapter 4

“Winston! I am reading increased strange quark and tachyon levels in local Hilbert space!”

Emily looked up as Athena’s voice rang through the lab, while Winston grabbed a handheld instrument package. “Let me know as soon as you see Higgs –”

Before Winston could finish his sentence, that same sound they’d come to associate with Lena’s appearances split the air, and an orange clad Lena was running through the lab flat out, passing through tables like they weren’t there, what appeared to be pistols kicking in her hands as she fired at…someone. It was difficult to tell without context as she leapt and dove through the room, apparently locked in a life or death battle with an invisible opponent.

A few moments later, Lena re-appeared from a different direction, now wearing a white compression shirt and sweatpants, a green knit scarf in her hands. Approaching Emily, she smiled, now saying something in a voice too slowed and slurred to understand, then tried to place the scarf around her lover’s neck, blinking in surprise when the scarf (and her hands) slid straight through the redhead’s torso, leaving that strange tingling in their wake.

Emily smiled as bravely as she could, putting a hand up, palm out as she stood.

Lena flickered again, and this time was back in the Slipstream flight suit, her eyes filled with tears. She reached out her gloved hand, palm hovering millimeters from contact, and a heartbeat later she had gone.

“Higgs boson concentration falling, Winston. Quark levels have normalized.” Athena’s main display blipped, showing a rising and falling graph of the different subatomic particles that she’d successfully mapped.

Winston checked the graph against readings on his own equipment, then nodded. Setting the instruments he’d been using down on the table again, he reached up to take his glasses off, tapping an earpiece thoughtfully against his lower lip as he reviewed the figures. “That’s our longest event yet. We also experienced refractions of Lena’s timeline from two distinct periods before what we perceive as her present self emerged.”

Emily sank back into her chair, biting her lip rather than interrupt with a pithy comment. She’d learned that Winston tended to think out loud. She breathed in deeply and held it for a count of ten.

Every time Lena reappeared she felt on the verge of tears.

Well. That wasn’t quite true. The first moments were always relief that Lena was somehow _still alive_ , but as each “event” played out, and she watched Lena’s heartbreaking realization of how she was still essentially a ghost…it took everything Emily had not to weep in front of them all.

Emily had sunk so deeply into her melancholy that she didn’t realize Winston had been calling her name until the scientist had gently placed one of his massive hands on her shoulder. “Emily? Did you hear me?”

Emily shook herself, then looked up into yellow, concern filled eyes. “Sorry, no. I just…I had a moment there. I apologize.”

Winston offered a sympathetic nod. “I’m sorry. I can only imagine how difficult this must be for you.” He offered a gentle, reassuring squeeze, then backed up slightly. “I was asking if you’d experienced any more events outside of the lab.”

Nodding, Emily reached into her pocket to pull out a flip notepad, trying to get her mind back up to proper RPM. She flipped through her notes on the last few weeks, then cleared her throat before trying to speak.

“She appeared at the flat for…about 30 seconds last night at 20:41. Didn’t appear to recognize or respond to me. She looked younger – maybe in the neighborhood of 18 or 19.“ Emily flipped to the next page. “Second one was this morning when I woke up. I didn’t hear her come in, but when I opened my eyes I saw her standing in front of our bedroom mirror. She was trying on the _Slipstream_ flight suit. She turned to look at me, and then…gone.” Sighing, she closed the notebook and returned it to her pocket. “I was there for that one, the first time it happened. That was the night I gave her the scarf she wore up for the test flight.”

Winston nodded. “That follows what we’ve observed about the events speeding up – and ties into something else that I’ve been considering.”  
  
Emily raised an eyebrow. “What would that be?”  
  
Winston moved back to his main workstation and opened a wireframe map of Watchpoint: Gibraltar and some of the surrounding area. “I’ve been trying to track the subatomic particle traces that have signaled Lena’s intersections with our current time.” He tapped a few keys, and bright blue points of light appeared, some tightly concentrated on the Watchpoint – particularly the lab complex – while others were scattershot across the territory at seemingly random intervals.

Emily nodded. “I suppose appearing around the lab so much makes sense. Is that because she’s…I don’t know…attracted to some of the original teleportation equipment you have here? Like filings to a magnet?”

Winston gave her a look Emily didn’t know how to read. “In a sense.” Then, he looked back at the console. “Athena? Remove the Lab and any events that lasted less than five seconds from the map, please.”

The remaining points of light formed a dense star of contacts, all in one spot.

Emily gave the scientist a questioning look. “So, what’s that when it’s at home?”

Winston wordlessly tapped a key, and an address appeared at the bottom of the display.

Emily knew it very well indeed, since it was the address to her own flat.

“Lena isn’t getting pulled back by any kind of equipment – though I am working on a few ideas for that,” Winston put his glasses back on, then opened a hand, turning it palm up. “Lena is reappearing most frequently in the lab or your building, in my opinion, because those are where you’re spending most of your time, and she’s consciously trying to get back to _you._ ”

She wants to laugh, wants to let the tears fall, wants to shake her head. She barely keeps herself on her feet as she looks at the screen. “That’s…Winston, that’s something out of a movie. A _bad_ movie. Science fiction.”

The scientist shrugged, not quite smiling, but not frowning either. “Emily, we’re dealing with a woman lost in time and space after a teleportation accident. At the very least I’m sure that’s the plot of a TV show.” Despite the gravity of the subject, his eyes twinkled a bit behind his glasses. “So, why _shouldn’t_ she be bending reality to get back to you?”

Emily stared for a long moment before the laughter and the tears started coming together. He had a point.

* * *

Was she making progress?

Was she getting closer?

Sometimes the current she was swimming against felt impossibly strong, and when she opened her eyes, she was in a life she’d never lived.

Binding her breasts and cutting her hair short so she could pass as a man. Climbing into a Hurricane and doing her part to keep Jerry from flattening London, the voice of one of the ground controllers back at Fighter Command achingly familiar.

Working in a country house, the lower kitchen and scullery all she knew. One of the Lady’s Maids with long red hair always making her stumble and blush, but never being able to tell her _why_.

The navigator of a privateer, the crew knowing full well she was a girl and not giving a damn as long as she shot straight, set a good course, and turned her watches. Never satisfied on land or sea, always looking for something – someone – she could never find.

Playing a guitar in a dingy basement club, screaming out lyrics because if you're a lesbian in 1985 and you're _not_ screaming you haven't been paying any attention. Looking for a pair of green eyes that were never in the crowd.

Each time she realized what – who – was missing, and felt herself pulled back into that timeless nowhere again, struggling to push forward again. So many times she’d nearly made it just to find her fingers sliding through Emily’s, to see her lover’s eyes filled with heartbreak before she felt herself being pulled away again.

_I swear I’ll find my way._

_Please, please wait for me._

* * *

Emily frowned as she walked slowly around the chamber they’d spent the last three months constructing.

Hexagonal field emitters lined the ceiling, with a jungle of cables running between and beneath them. Walls of brushed alloy, to (hopefully) better amplify what Winston was referring to as the ‘Chronal Synchronization Effect’. Fat cables running along the perimeter of the bare floor, with one massive conduit running straight down the center of the room.

“It feels…bare,” she finally told Winston with a frustrated sigh, “sterile. We’re trying to bring her _home_ , not turn her into a specimen.”

Winston nodded. “I know, I’m sorry, but we have to minimize the chance for anything reacting with the field. Once we have her safely inside the field and the environment stabilized, I promise we’ll get some creature comforts in as quickly as we can.”

Emily looked back, suddenly realizing what that might mean. “I’m not going to be allowed in there, am I.”

The scientist winced. “Not…immediately.”

“Winston, you _have_ to let me in there. She’ll be _terrified._ I need to be in that room so I can help calm her down and make sure she’s safe.” Putting her hands on her hips, she pointed out of the chamber to where the graph of Lena’s appearances still automatically updated on Athena’s main display. “You said it yourself – she’s trying to find me. How does separating us help?”

“Emily,” Winston’s voice dropped as he came over, “I truly believe this will bring Lena back. I do. But science isn’t about beliefs – it’s about evidence. We are going to be throwing a massive amount of energy into this chamber, using technologies that are beyond the bleeding edge, and even though I have theories and models that tell me it should work, it’s not guaranteed. Once she’s in the chamber we’ll be trying to stabilize Lena’s position in her timeline – to alter the flow of her reality – and I don’t know how that will affect anyone who _hasn’t_ been disassociated. If I put you in that chamber, it might be harmless…but it also might kill you. What would it do to her to finally make her way back just to find your corpse at her feet?”

Emily knew he was right.

It didn’t hurt any less.

Winston must have been able to see the thoughts pass across her face. “I swear, the _moment_ it is safe for you to enter you’ll be in that room, and once we find a way to permanently anchor Lena without needing her to stay inside the chamber, you’ll be the one to walk out that door with her.”

Emily nodded, then crossed to offer a hug. “Thank you, I’m sorry, I don’t want to seem ungrateful. I just…she has to feel so alone, Winston. I’ve had you, and Ana, and so many others…”

“I know,” the scientist murmured as he carefully returned the embrace. “I know.”

* * *

If she’d been swimming against a current this whole time, suddenly Lena felt as if she was being yanked down by an undertow. Fighting as hard as she could, she tried to push, tried to _keep going,_ but it was too much. She didn’t think she could _feel_ exhausted in this strange space, but somehow she felt weary and overwhelmed, and as she felt herself pulled down, her world went dark.

_I’m sorry, Emily._

_Forgive me._


	5. Chapter 5

“She’s  _here_ , Winston, she’s _here!"_

Emily pressed her hand to one of the windows that had been set into the chamber, barely able to breathe.

Lena’s body had flickered at first, just as before, still dressed in her flightsuit. The shadows of different possibilities seemed to fade in and out over her prone form as the ceiling of the chamber glowed and pulsed with the energies being released from the field emitters.

“Athena, give me an update on gauge boson levels?” Winston was working a series of emitter controls like a musician tuning an instrument, hunched over the readouts as he attempted to ensure everything came in at the correct pitch.

“Higgs boson readings at normal. Showing W bosons within expected range. You need to increase Z boson levels by 5% to meet expected minimums for stable containment.”

“Right…right…” As the scientist adjusted the controls according to the AI’s report, Emily held her breath. The flickering was slowing…

“There… I think… YES! Athena, lock emitters!”

Emily gasped as she realized that Lena was casting a shadow against the chamber floor, the pulsing emitters settling to a soft, steady glow.

“Emitters locked,” the AI confirmed with a distinct note of satisfaction, “Containment field established.”

Winston opened a new window on his desktop and gave a sigh of relief. “Her flight suit’s telemetry is broadcasting again! Normal temperature…heart rate and blood pressure a bit elevated but not excessive…”

Winston kept on, but Emily didn’t follow any of it. Her entire world was the unconscious woman lying on her side in the chamber, her chest slowly rising and falling.

_Welcome home._

* * *

If she was honest, Lena had not expected to wake up again. Not with the way she’d felt pulled under by whatever that sensation had been.

Her head was pounding, her muscles ached like she’d been running for days, she was lying on something flat and cold, which didn’t help, and what the _hell_ was that humming noise?

Groaning, she pushed herself onto her back, slowly opening her eyes, then winced as she realized she was staring right into some kind of bright blue glowing ceiling fixture.

“Oh, _dammit_ , could you turn that down at all?”

She didn’t expect an answer, of course, but then to her complete shock she received one.

“Unfortunately, no, but if things go well we’ll be able to get you out soon.”

Every bit of pain and fatigue was suddenly washed away by that voice, and Lena was on her feet in a heartbeat, whirling towards where the sound had come from.

“ _Emily!_ ”

The redhead was standing at what she realized after a moment was some kind of observation window, tears tracking down the sides of her cheeks.

“Hello, lovely. You have _no idea_ how good it is to hear your voice again.”

Lena felt like a rock was stuck in her throat as she made her way to the window, tears pooling in her own eyes as she raised a gloved hand. “I…I looked for you. I looked for _so long_ , you wouldn’t _believe_ me if I told you.”

Emily pressed her own palm to the window. “I might. I kept…you kept appearing, trying to make it to me. I don’t know how much you remember.”

“We…” Lena gestured to their matching palms with her other hand, “we started doing this. I remember that.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Emily breathed with relief, “I can’t…Winston says he has to make sure it’s safe for me to go into the chamber now that he’s got your presence in time stabilized, but as soon as he does…”

Lena nodded. Some things didn’t need said. One very important thing did, though.

“I love you, Emily…love you so much! Everything went dark and for a moment I thought that was it…that I’d never tell you that again…” She probably looked a fright as the tears ran down her face, and she didn’t care, because the look in her lover’s eyes said everything she needed to know.

“I love you, Lena. I’m here, and I’m _staying_ here, all right? Winston already gave me a cot, and I’m not planning on leaving this lab until you do.” Emily wiped tears from her face, then smiled, her eyes flashing with the same determination that had been so damned attractive from day one. “And you can tell me that as much and as often as you like, Flight Lieutenant Oxton, because I promise I’ll never get tired of hearing it.”

Lena blinked at the mention of a cot. “Oh – what time is it, anyway?”

Athena’s voice answered from the ceiling of the lab and the chamber.

“The time is twelve thirty five AM, March twelfth, twenty sixty nine.”

Lena’s face went white. “…that…seven _months_? I’ve been gone _seven months_?”

Emily nodded, her face falling. “You…we were holding your funeral when you appeared right in front of me.”

Lena took a sharp intake of breath. “Jesus  _Christ._ ”

Emily laughed darkly. “Well, yes. That was rather the point, darling.”

“ _Fuck_ , Emily, I…I’m so sorry.” Lena shivered for reasons that had nothing to do with the cold, plain room. “It felt like _years_ to me, but I was praying it was nothing like…god.”

“Don’t you dare!” Emily’s eyes flashed. “You _came home_ , Lena Oxton. Do you know how amazing that is? You came home, that’s all that matters to me.”

Lena couldn’t help but smile at that. “Right-o, Chief Arrington.” Then, frowning she looked around at the bare room.

“Can I get clothes? A bed? …food?”

“Tomorrow,” Emily assured, “Winston wanted to wait 24 hours to make sure everything was stable and that it was safe to start introducing outside objects. Starting with clothes and a bed, I promise, then food, and then me at first opportunity.”

Athena simulated a polite cough. “Technically the protocols Winston established state that Dr. Ziegler should be the first person allowed in so that she can perform a full medical evaluation.”

Emily’s jaw set as she looked up to the ceiling. “Doctor Ziegler can bloody well share.”

Lena grinned. _Ohhh, that’s my girl._

The AI actually seemed to consider that, her tone just a touch resigned when she spoke again. “I’ll contact Winston, and send a note about your request to the Doctor. Also – Lena, there is a water dispenser if you are thirsty, along with a toilet along the back wall.”

“Oh, thanks, Athena!” Looking behind her – yes, there it was, concealed behind a bend of alloy material.

Emily smiled. “Go get a drink and hit the loo. I’ll be here.”

Lena frowned. “Not getting any sleep?”

Emily shook her head. “I’ll stay awake as long as you need.”

“OK,” Lena began unbuckling the fittings of the _Slipstream_ flight suit, “be right back, then…”

* * *

Emily yawned, waving to Winston as he shuffled through the lab door, her jaw popping.

“Good morning, Emily.” The scientist looked to the Chronal Containment Chamber, where Lena was resting again, using the wadded up top from her flight suit as a makeshift pillow. “I see Lena woke up for a bit?”

The redhead smiled fondly as she looked down at the sleeping pilot. “Yes, we talked until…oh, I don’t know. Four in the morning? Five?”

“Four forty five,” Athena added pointedly, “and you have not slept since. You have been awake for the better part of thirty hours now.”

“That,” Emily replied dryly, “is what we have coffee for.” Standing, she rolled her shoulders as she walked to the lab’s Tea & Coffee facilities. “I made a promise not to leave her until she walks out that door, and I am keeping it.”

Winston frowned. “You won’t do her any good if you pass out on your feet, either.”

“You’re not my mother, Winston,” Emily observed airily, “She moved to Northants ages ago and you have her voice all wrong.” The paper cup of steaming black tar didn’t fix all of her problems by a long shot, but after a few sips she had less of an urge to crawl back onto the cot and close her eyes. “It’s not like this is the first time I’ve faced long hours, you know.”

Winston looked distinctly unamused, but his expression softened when he followed the line of Emily’s gaze, even now, and realized it led to the sleeping form on the floor. “She’ll still be here when you wake up, I promise.”

“I want to believe you,” Emily admitted as she sat back down, “but part of me is still…I think about closing my eyes just for a moment, and if she was _gone_ when I opened them again.” She took another sip of the coffee and tried to figure out what, if anything, she could say. “Right now it’s still so much like it was – the only difference is we can talk to each other again. Still can’t be in the same room. Still can’t touch. Can’t hold her and know she’s _real_. Until then…”

“I’m going to start working on the initial tests for the entry protocols,” Winston offered, “and Angela’s flight arrives in two hours. If I promise to wake you if there’s any change at all, or if Lena asks for you, would you at least try to take a nap?”

Emily sighed. “On one condition, and you know what it is.”

That made the scientist chuckle. “OK, ok. I promise, Emily, when Angela goes in, so do you.”

Chucking the rest of the coffee into the bin was no great loss. “Deal.” She gave one last look into the chamber, just to confirm again that the brush of chestnut hair was still there, then laid down, trying to shift around until she found a comfortable position. She’d nearly gotten there when a thought crossed her mind.

“Oh. Winston?”

The gorilla’s head turned enough to catch her eye, one ridged brow raised in curiosity. “Mm?”

She propped herself up on an elbow to make sure they could make eye contact. “Get a clock or something that she can see through the window. One that will show the date.”

Winston looked confused for a moment, then offered a soft ‘ah’ of realization. “I’ll take care of it, I promise.”

Emily tried to offer as grateful a smile as she could manage as she finally let her fatigue pull her down. “Thank you…”

* * *

Lena hadn’t met Overwatch’s chief medical officer in person before. Seen her name on memos and watched press conferences, of course. Seen her on plenty of posters before, too, but all of that didn’t give much of an impression beyond “Well, she’s gorgeous” and “Holy hell she’s smart.”

As they spoke through the intercom while Winston finished some of his final checks before allowing her (and Emily) into the chamber, Lena was delighted to learn that Dr. Angela Ziegler was quite pleasant to talk to, with an open, caring bedside manner and a good sense of humor.

“I was quite excited to fly down for this,” the doctor explained as she sipped at her cup of coffee, “it’s not everyday I get to declare a patient back from the dead.”

Lena grinned. “I bet not.” Looking past the doctor’s shoulder, she pitched her voice a bit louder in hopes it would carry further. “How’s it looking, Winston? Am I fit for company?”

The gorilla looked up from where he’d been reviewing data from the chamber’s sensors and the flight suit. “I think we’re looking good – but please stay back from the airlock. I’m not sure we can remove you from the field safely yet.”

Lena sighed. “Well, at least having people able to come _in_ is something.” She looked around the bare room again. “Also a sleeping bag or something would be nice. Maybe chairs?” Her stomach rumbled so loudly that Angela actually giggled as she looked down at herself. “And food, yeah. Food would be _really_ good.”

Emily’s head appeared from where she’d been lying down on her cot, showing a delightful looking case of bedhead. “Mhm. Food’s good. I like food.”  
  
Winston pointed to a box on the counter. “I have some survival ration bars.”

Lena stuck out her tongue. “Rat bars are not food.” Her focus shifted to her girlfriend, watching as she yawned and stood up, stretching herself out. “Hi, luv. Morning.”

“It was already morning,” Emily groused, “when I went to bed. Love you, but coffee.”

Angela smiled as she watched the byplay. “So you’re my ‘assistant’ for the exam? The one who has been insisting on coming in with me?”

 _“Coffee_ ,” the mechanic repeated, “and yes.”

“She’ll come around in a minute,” Lena assured the doctor, “just let her spool up.”

* * *

The entrance into the chamber was very much like the airlock for a spacecraft – or perhaps boarding a submarine.

Emily stood next to the doctor as the door to the main lab closed, latches clicking home as it sealed.

“There’s no risk of radiation or anything else at this point, is there? This all feels a bit melodramatic.”

Dr. Ziegler smiled. “I suppose so. Winston was raised on the Horizon colony, though, so he’s used to safety and environmental integrity being incredibly important – and he had a good point that we are working with a number of unknowns.”

Before Emily could reply, the inner door slid open, and there was Lena standing just far enough back to give her visitors room to enter the chamber.

Dr. Ziegler was nice enough to wait while Emily took two quick strides to her girlfriend, wrapping her arms around her as tightly as she could. “I’m here.”

Lena’s arms were just as tight, her hands firm and warm as they stroked up and down against her body, reassuring that neither one of them was disappearing or in any way incorporeal. _“_ Yeah. _”_

Funny how three words could stand for so many things said and left unsaid between them. They were both crying when they finally disengaged, turning to look over to where the doctor was waiting.

She didn’t mind.

12 hours after Angela had performed a full physical and declared Lena Oxton officially in good health and Not Dead, the containment chamber had been equipped with a folding bed, chairs, blankets, a television (and movies) and a small table that they’d eaten three entire actual meals on, to Lena’s great relief.

She’d changed out of the flight suit (which Winston would attempt to remove from the chamber and examine tomorrow) and was wearing a comfortable pair of pyjamas as she curled up with Emily in one of the blankets. Her lover had taken every opportunity to touch, hold, or otherwise make her physical presence felt, and Lena wasn’t complaining one bit.

They obviously weren’t doing much past fairly chaste kisses and cuddling while they were in the middle of the lab and under constant observation, but it was more than enough for right now. She had a feeling they’d both need that reassurance for quite a while.

They had put an old Bond flick on and they were both half asleep when something occurred to her.

“Emily?”

“Mm? Yes, love?”

“Am I going to get Medical’d out?”

Emily frowned. “No one has said a thing about that around me. The biggest concern has just been getting you home.”

Lena nodded thoughtfully. “I just…I guess I realized that even once I can get out of here, I don’t know if they’ll give me my flight status back. Losing the kite alone would have me up for a board of inquiry if we were back home, right?”

The redhead shrugged against her. “Well, yes, but they wouldn’t find against you – as far as Winston’s been able to determine you did absolutely nothing wrong, it was a flaw in the hardware itself.”

“Still,” Lena gestured to the emitters in the ceiling that now helped to stabilize her, “not like I can take this room with me into a cockpit.” Her voice slowly filled with uncertainty.  “What if I need to get…I don't know, treatments in here off and on? What would I even do? Flying’s all I’ve ever done.”

Emily went quiet as she considered that. “I’ll tell you what, Flight Lieutenant Oxton. If, and it's a big IF that should happen, I'll turn in my papers too. We’ll move back to London, or stay here, or wherever you want to go, and we’ll make do.”

Her lover’s unshakable confidence went a long way to convincing the (ex-?) pilot that things would be all right. “I suppose that works, Chief Technician Arrington. But what about money?”

“You'll probably get pension and compensation from Overwatch and the RAF, I'm sure.” Emily snugged her arms just a little tighter. “As for me, I've got a few useful talents. Could even open a shop.”

Lena's eyebrows rose. “Yeah? What sort?”

“I used to fix up motorbike engines with my uncle before I went into the Service. It’s part of why I decided to become an aircraft tech in the first place.”

Lena grinned. “Oh, I like that idea. Or maybe I just like the idea of you riding a motorbike. I’d never have guessed!”

That drew a throaty chuckle. “Never pictured me as the daring type, dearheart?”

“You drive a _Volvo_ , luv.”

Emily snorted. “Don’t hear you complaining when you borrow it to get groceries. Besides, parts are easy to come by and they’re reliable.”

Lena stuck out her tongue. “Ok, fine. What sort of bikes, then, for this shop of yours?”

“Oh, Triumphs and Wasps and whatever I could make money on fixing up, I suppose. I do love the old BSAs and Vincents but you hardly ever see them about.”

“Mmm. I like the idea of you working on some old bikes all day. Some of our best dates started with peeling you out of your work clothes and getting you cleaned up.” Lena looked over, her thoughts still a bit unsettled. “Still not sure where I’d fit into that though. Can’t see myself sitting around all day, pension or not.”

“I could teach you a thing or two.” Emily’s voice took on a slight edge of nervousness. “Or maybe I’d just ask my wife to handle the phones while I get my hands properly dirty.”

Lena turned to fully face the redhead, blinking in surprise. “Your wi –” Her jaw dropped as she realized what Emily was really asking her. " _Emily._ Are you really…are you really sure?”

Emily’s eyes glittered like emeralds. “Lena Oxton, I have never been more certain of anything in my entire life.”

Lena hesitated for a heartbeat. Was she ready for that? Was it right to ask Emily to sign on for whatever would come out of her accident?

But she’d pulled herself through time and space to reach this woman.

She’d lived life after life trying to find her eyes, her smile, her laugh.

And _Emily_ was the one asking _her_.

“Well.” Lena smiled back to her, tears at the corners of her eyes for very different reasons than she’d had of late. “I guess we should decide if you’re taking my name, or I take yours, or what. Because ‘Lena Oxton-Arrington’ is an awful mouthful.”

Emily laughed, and then they were both crying, and then monitoring or not, that deserved a proper kiss.


	6. Chapter 6

The sound of the chamber’s airlock cycling woke Emily immediately. Her eyes flicked to the clock Winston had placed in the observation windows: 10:44am. March 13th, 2069.

Lena had fallen asleep in the folding bed around eleven last night. She hadn’t been much behind, the sound of her girl’s quiet breathing better than any lullaby.

It was the longest uninterrupted sleep she’d had in months.

Unwinding herself from the blanket she’d wrapped herself in next to the bed, she stretched, turning to see Dr. Ziegler come through the airlock with a small trolley of food and coffee.

“Good morning,” the blonde offered quietly, “how did Lena sleep?”

Emily smiled down at the still sleeping woman before walking towards the table, where the doctor was placing a carafe of coffee, fruit, and some toast. “Like a rock. All things considered, not surprising. She’s been through a lot.”

“Medically, fortunately, she’s quite healthy. I _am_ concerned about some of the longer term psychological effects of her ordeal, though.” Her eyes flicked over to where Lena was slowly starting to stir. “I don’t want you to violate any confidence, but do either of you happen to see a mental health professional already?”

Emily shook her head. “No. I take it you would recommend that?”

“Yes,” Dr. Ziegler confirmed, “honestly I’d suggest you both seek some care, individually and as a couple. I know this must have been a difficult experience for you, too. If you like, I can send you a few names here in Gibraltar who have been vetted for security clearance so they can work with Overwatch staff.”

Emily busied herself with pouring a cup of coffee and taking a sip. Honestly, the doctor wasn’t wrong, and she hadn’t considered that idea… “Thank you, Doctor, I’d appreciate that.”

The blonde woman smiled. “I told Lena while you were asleep the other morning – please, call me Angela.”

Emily smiled. “Angela, then.”

Lena joined them at the table, yawning until her head looked like it was ready to fall off. “Hullo, luv. Hullo, Angie. Is there tea?”

“Coffee,” Angela explained, “plus some fresh fruit and wheat toast.”

“Good enough.” They sat at the table, and Lena had put paid to most of the breakfast before she looked out into the lab. “Winston? You there, mate?”

The scientist’s bulky form came into view after a moment. “Good morning, Lena. Emily. I’m right here.”

“Hullo!” Lena waved, then gestured around the chamber with her mug. “What’s the plans for today? How long until I can get out and about?”

“Well, that’s part of what we’re going to work on.” Winston gestured to where the flight suit had been neatly folded into a bundle. “Angela, would you please bring the suit out? I’d rather start with testing on inorganic material, obviously.”

Lena shivered slightly, and Emily moved to put a hand over hers. “I quite agree. Do let us know what you find out once you can take a look?”

“It may take time,” Winston admitted, “but sometimes we learn as much from what we _don’t_ find as what we do.”

They received their first example of that when Angela put their dishes on the bottom rack of the trolley, then placed all of the clothing Lena had been wearing during the _Slipstream_ ’s disappearance on the top.

The doctor pushed the trolley into the airlock, the door cycled closed…and a moment after she left the stabilization field, the pile of clothes reappeared at the center of the containment chamber with the same strange sound that Emily had come to associate with Lena’s disappearances and reappearances, hanging in midair for just a moment before falling to the floor.

Lena’s face drained of color. “Oh. That’s not good, is it? I’m…trapped in here? Is that what this means?”

Winston tapped his chin thoughtfully, and Emily could see the gears turning as Angela joined him in the lab. “Mmm. Well, not exactly. I think it means…” He trailed off and began to tap at his keyboard. “Well.”

Emily sighed. She really _did_ enjoy working with Winston, but when he got into this sort of mode it was incredibly frustrating. “Well?”

The scientist blinked, then looked up. “Oh, sorry. Obviously the stabilization field is working, what we saw was that as the clothing left the field it began to destabilize again, and was drawn back into the field.”

“Makes sense,” Lena admitted, “based on some of what you told me when we were getting ready for the original test flights. But what does that mean for _me?_ ”

Winston looked over with a reassuring smile. “It means that I think I can work with this. Don’t worry, Lena. We’ll figure this out.”

* * *

With Winston working on a new tack, Emily got back into her role as his assistant over the next few days but kept herself where Lena could see her easily, taking breaks whenever asked. Sometimes it was taking time for lunch or tea, others to just sit and let her new fiancée hold on to her in moments where she needed the reminder that they were both present.

They were having one of those moments when Captain Amari decided to call on the lab.

“Good afternoon, ladies.”

Emily smiled as she looked up. “Hello, Ana.”

Lena raised an eyebrow. “Cap is ‘Ana’ now? How’d that happen?”

The older woman chuckled. “We came to an understanding while you were…away.”

“Ahh.” Lena nodded. “OK, then. Sorry for being a bit untidy, ma’am.”

Ana rolled her eyes. “It’s not like we stood on a lot of ceremony before, Lena. Besides, you’re on convalescent leave.”

The pilot nodded. “Well, there’s that, then…” Emily’s arms tightened around her slightly, and Lena smiled, recalling their conversation from her first night back. “So I’m still on the books?”

“We’ll need to figure out your exact status once Winston can get you out of there,” Ana looked back to where Winston was scribbling out an equation on his whiteboard as she spoke, “but you’re still one of mine, Lena, regardless of what happens, and I take care of my people.”

Lena sighed with relief. “I’m…I needed to hear that, thank you. I know Em and I would figure things out regardless, but it’s good to know there’s still a place for me here.”

“Of course.” Ana smiled. “Besides, once you’re cleared to leave that room, I’m planning on having you both over for dinner. Emily is as bad as Winston about not eating, I’ve found.”

The redhead looked away with embarrassment. “I had a few pressing concerns, you know.”

“Mm. Still, I think you could both use the company, when you’re ready.”

Lena nodded. “Long as it means I’m not in here, you won’t hear me complain.”

The Captain nodded, then checked her watch. “I’m afraid I need to go. Command staff meeting. But I’ll stop by again as I can.”

Lena stood, offering a wave.  “Appreciate you dropping in, Cap!”

Once the older woman had left, Lena turned back to where Emily was standing. “So what’s this about not eating, then? You would eat at your desk sometimes back at Coningsby but you never left off entirely.”

The redhead looked away, embarrassed. “When…when we didn’t know you were trying to make it back, I didn’t take very good care of myself. Wasn’t really _able_ to.”

Lena took her up in a hug, rubbing her hand gently over the taller woman’s back. “Oh, pet…you poor love.”

“That’s why I’m on a bit closer terms with the Captain,” Emily admitted as she put her head against the shorter woman’s shoulder, “she spent some time looking after me. Getting me back on my feet.”

“Well,” Lena murmured as she stroked her fingers through flaming hair, “thank god for Cap, then.” After a moment they disengaged, Lena’s hands resting against Emily’s hips. “But you take care of yourself now, yeah? I mean, I need you there to get after me when _I_ don’t.”

Emily smiled, tears pricking her eyes again. “Why don’t we take care of each other, Flight Lieutenant Oxton?”

Lena grinned. “I like that plan, Chief Technician Arrington.”

Emily turned as she saw Winston moving from the whiteboard to his test bench, examining one of the spare field emitters. “I think I may need to get back to work, here. Say something if you need me, all right?”

Lena nodded, stealing one last kiss before stepping back and gesturing to the airlock. “See you for dinner, then.”

* * *

Winston held up the latest attempt at miniaturizing the stabilization field emitters, examining it with a careful eye. “Unfortunately, I think this may be as small as I can bring them down while still operating properly.”

Emily nodded, mentally sizing it up with Lena’s frame. “Not so bad, though. A bit smaller than some of the kit she was wearing in the _Slipstream_.”

“I was hoping to reduce it a bit more, since we need two to establish a stable projected environment.” Winston tapped a screen, bringing up a display to show two glowing blue dots surrounding Lena, the hemispheres of energy they created blending into a seamless bubble. “We’ll still need to develop the housing and support systems for it.”

“Not to mention making sure it’s comfortable,” Emily pointed out, “if she has to wear this practically full time, she needs to be able to live in it.”

Winston nodded agreement. “I’m going to do my best – we’ll probably have some trial and error, but we can borrow some of the existing tactical rigging that our field operatives use.” He frowned. “She’s also going to need some kind of an interface to monitor the system’s power levels and operating data – that she can examine easily and naturally without having to unhook or detach anything.”

Emily considered that for a moment, then smiled. “I think I have an idea for that, actually. I’ll need to run back home to pick a few things up, and we may need a specialist to help with a few details.”

Winston smiled back. “Well, Ana did give us an open budget.”

* * *

Just as before, they started with a test using Lena’s flight suit.

Emily opened the box that was their temporary housing for the miniaturized emitters, then placed the suit inside before closing the lid.

“Right. Test article is in the containment unit, Winston. Are you ready?”

From outside the chamber, Winston nodded. “Monitoring engaged, field stable. Ready to initialize the portable units.”

Lena sat cross legged on the bed in a t-shirt and jeans, watching intently as panels on either side of the box began to glow with blue light.

Emily tapped at the controls on the lid. “Initialized…projecting…now!”

“Oog.” Lena winced, her hand going to her stomach. “That…that was odd. Like something was tugging at me, somehow.”

“Believe it or not,” Winston observed, “that’s a good sign. It means we’re projecting a field that responds to your chronal disassociation effect. Which should mean we’re another step closer to a way you can leave the chamber.”

“I’m all for that,” Lena admitted, “it’s just…not a pleasant sensation, really. Hopefully that wouldn’t be a permanent effect.”

Emily shook her head. “No, I don’t think so, anyway. Right now we have two competing fields – like having two magnets trying to attract the same object. Shouldn’t be an issue because once we know it works, we get your kit working and then turn off the big field.”

“Makes sense,” Lena agreed, “so…I guess you better go take Winston my laundry, then. Let’s see what happens.”

Emily nodded, picking up the box and carrying it to the airlock. “Off we go, then…”

She left the chamber, and Lena crossed her fingers.

She could hear the doors of the airlock cycling.

The flight suit didn’t reappear in the chamber.

There was no sound as time and space were twisted.

There was no puff of displacing air.

Emily carried the box to to Winston’s workbench.

The flight suit still didn’t reappear.

Winston opened the lid, then turned the box to show her the flightsuit inside with a broad smile. “I think we can call that a successful test.”

* * *

“I’m calling it the Local Effect Chronal Accelerator,” Winston explained as he wheeled in the test stand that held the prototype system that they hoped would be the key to Lena’s freedom, “though I’m mostly referring to it as the accelerator in my notes for short.”

Lena walked over, lightly running a hand over the bulbous front and back fairings that hung suspended from the tactical rigging. “Accelerator? What’s it accelerating?”

“Well,” Winston set the brakes on the stand, then opened a panel on the front fairing to check a readout, “the key to your disassociation phenomenon is that you’re out of sync with what we perceive as the normal flow of time and space. What the containment field does – and the accelerator will produce in miniature for you – is constantly monitor the space around you and producing the proper levels of tachyons, bosons, and mesons needed to keep you stabilized.”

Lena considered that thoughtfully. “I think I understood…half of that. But the gist is that it’s putting out what I need to keep me here, while still allowing me to have something reasonably close to a normal life?”

“That’s our plan,” Emily confirmed as she began to loosen the harness’ straps and rigging, “so…care to get dressed for company, dear?”

Lena nodded, crossing to the stand as Winston closed the panel he’d had open for a final check, letting Emily help her into the gear almost as if she was getting into a parachute harness.

“I’m going to start tightening the rigging,” Emily explained as she knelt to work on the straps that hung loosely against her legs, “so tell me if anything’s uncomfortable.”

“Right.” She waited for Emily to stand up, then took a couple of experimental steps and stretches. “May want to loosen that slightly – I mean, I’m not going into _combat_ or jumping out of a plane right now, so it doesn’t have to be snug as possible.” Lena considered the fit of the harness around her chest and back, and shrugged her shoulders a few times. “Weight feels all right. Pretty well distributed.”

Winston took a few notes on a tablet, then nodded. “Good. Let’s move to powering things up, then.”

Lena walked back to him. “Right. What’s our startup procedure, then?”

“There’s a priming handle at the base of the front emitter,” Winston explained, gesturing to the base of the accelerator, “Go ahead and grip that, please.”

Lena did as instructed and felt a pressure switch set into the handle click home. A moment later, the emitter on the front began to glow a soft blue, just like the larger fellows in the ceiling, and a quick look at her reflection in the window showed a matching glow coming from her back. “Priming complete, looks like!”

Emily nodded. “Agreed. Ready to activate.”

Winston nodded. “Good. Pull the handle down until you feel it lock in place, then release.”

Lena did so, and felt a slight vibration from the accelerator. “Locked and released!”

“Good.” Winston checked his tablet. “I’m showing that the accelerator is scanning local environment variables. We’re ready to bring the system fully online. Go ahead and place your hand on the front emitter, and give the inner disc a clockwise turn.”

Lena did so, and after a moment she felt that same lurching, tugging sensation she’d felt when they’d tested the system with her flight suit. It felt like she was getting pulled into two places at once, but it wasn’t overwhelming. When she lifted her hand away, she could see the emitter projecting a slowly rotating wheel of blue light. “Looks like we’re online, Winston.”

“Excellent. I’m showing the stabilization field at 100%. So, with that said…” He looked to the ceiling. “Are you ready to try turning off the main field?”

Lena looked at where Emily was looking at her, her body language reminding her of days when they were _fairly_ sure a new modification to the _Spiteful_ or another test plane was ready to go, but they wouldn’t know for sure until someone took the kite into the sky. “Kiss for luck?”

Emily’s fingers tangled in her hair, drawing her in for a heartfelt kiss. “And soon as we get you out of here,” she murmured in a low voice that only Lena could hear, “I will give you quite a lot more than that.”

Lena felt herself flush as heat bloomed straight through her. “Now, that’s encouragement.” Stepping back, she gave them both a brave smile. “I think I’m ready as I can be.”

Winston tapped at his tablet. “Athena, stand by on emergency restart for the emitter array, just in case.”

“Emergency restart protocol loaded and on standby, Winston.”

“Right.” Winston closed his eyes for a moment, perhaps offering up some silent plea of his own. “Deactivating chamber emitter array in 5…4…3…2…1… _now_.”

The glow from the array faded, the lighting in the chamber dimming noticeably.

Lena took a deep breath, and then exhaled.

“Em?”

Emily reached out, fingers caressing her cheek. “Hello, darling. We’re still here.”

Lena reached out, crying and laughing, pulling her into a tight hug.

_We’re still here._

_I’m still here._

* * *

 They’d left the chamber, Emily walking side by side with Lena, just as promised, and reconvened in the main part of Winston’s lab to go over the final details before Lena Oxton could reacquaint herself with the wider world.

Lena looked down at the glowing apparatus that was now essentially part of her, tapping her fingers against the front of the device. “So…now that we know it works, am I stuck in this forever? Take it off and I disappear?” Lena shivered slightly beneath the bulky harness, and Emily reached out to take her hand, squeezing reassuringly.

“Oh, no, not at all!” Winston shook his head, sitting back so he could use his hands while he spoke. “The accelerator has an area of effect – about a fifty foot radius. It will keep you stable while you’re inside there, and if you should leave, it’s designed to pull you back, basically. In fact, I may be able to give you the ability to do some interesting tricks with it. By projecting the stabilizing field to another location, it would essentially ‘blink’ you there – a short range, nearly instantaneous teleportation. Athena and I also think you’ll be able to manipulate your own timeline for a limited period using the same effect – allowing you to get out of a dangerous situation, for example.”

“So as long as it has a charge on it, and I stay in that field, I’m fine. Right.” Emily could hear the uncertainty in Lena’s voice, but after a deep breath, the pilot began to smile. “Long as I don’t have to wear the whole kit in the shower, I’m happy. A girl could get electrocuted that way, you know.”

“I already put hooks up in the flat,” Emily admitted with a smile, “one by the bed, another by the shower, the kitchen, the lot, and we can charge it off the wall outlet.”

“To an extent it’s self-charging,” Winston expanded, “but if the power is below thirty percent, plugging it into an external power source will speed things up considerably. Just lift up the maintenance hatch on the back and run the cable into an outlet.” He smiled, tapping the front fairing. “And for the record, it’s waterproof. The rigging straps can all be detached for cleaning, too.”

“So how do I know where the power level is at?” Lena looked down to examine the front fairing and the slowly rotating disc of blue light. “Does this bit on the front change color?”

“Actually,” Winston smiled as he pulled a box from his desk, “Emily gave me an idea for that I think you’ll like.” Looking to the redhead, he offered the box to her. “Care to do the honors?”

Emily smiled. “I was going to give you this when you came home from the first test flight. So we just made it a little more unique.” Opening the box, she drew out a black and silver aviator watch, the glowing CHRONAL gauge now incorporated into the broad face.

Lena gasped, gently running her fingers over the raised ring around the dial. “It’s…it’s beautiful, Em. This is lovely. I don’t even know what to…thank you, luv.” Blushing a bit, she held out her wrist. “Mind putting it on?”

There was a reassurance for both of them as Emily gently caressed her arm, warm fingers on smooth flesh instead of passing through into thin air, then buckled the strap closed, tucking the tail into the band. “There. All set.”

Lena admired it on her wrist. “Suits me better than a diamond ring anyway.”

“I hadn’t even considered that,” Emily admitted, “but if you like…”

Winston nodded, then shuffled back a bit to give them a little space. “I’m sure you don’t want to feel stuck in the lab any longer, Lena. Take a day or two outside, get used to everything, and then come back and let me know how things feel? We can talk about adjustment or refinements from there.”

“Yeah…yeah, thanks, Winston.” Lena stood, almost leaping to be able to give the massive scientist a hug. “Thank you for _everything_.”

Returning the hug, Winston stepped back after Lena let herself drop back to the ground and adjusted his glasses, smiling at both women. “I’m glad we found a way. But Emily deserves as much credit for not letting anyone give up, once we knew you were out there.”

Emily felt a lump forming in her throat as Lena turned, tears already pooling in her eyes. “I…I knew you wouldn’t. But there was a little part of me that was so scared I’d find my way back, somehow, and you’d be gone.”

“Lena Oxton,” Standing, she looked into her fiancée’s face, the severity in her voice belied by the look in her eyes, “the only place I am going is home with you.”

* * *

After stuffing herself so full of takeaway curry that Lena barely felt able to move, She let Emily lead her to the bedroom she’d been dreaming of for what felt like a thousand years. The bed had been turned down and looked incredibly inviting, but when she sat on the edge and began to think about undressing, she froze, looking down at the accelerator still strapped to her chest.

“I…is it silly if I’m scared to take it off?”

“No,” Emily reassured her, gently kissing the top of her forehead, their fingers interlacing tightly, “not after all that’s happened. But you trust Winston, don’t you?”

“Absolutely, I do.”

“And you trust me, right?”

Lena couldn’t help but smile. “Of course, luv. With my life.”

Emily smiled, then gently brought their linked hands up to the first buckle on Lena’s shoulder. “Then let me help.”

“Yeah,” Lena breathed softly, “ok…”

Emily helped open each buckle, loosen each strap, until Lena had removed the accelerator and placed it on the hook that now stood next to the bed, just as promised, then run the charging cable down to the outlet.

“I probably shouldn’t think about what this is going to do to our electric bill.”

Emily laughed, and Lena felt the last vestiges of the tension that had gripped her begin to ease. “Good thing I’ve been the one paying it, then.”

Lena smiled, laughing to herself quietly for a moment before undressing the rest of the way for bed and letting herself be pulled close under the covers. For all the promises they’d made of a more physical reunion once they got home…this was what she needed tonight, more than anything else, and Emily understood without a word needing to be said.

“Do me a favor, Em?”

“Anything.”

“Just…hold on, and don’t let go tonight?”

Emily’s arms settled around her, and Lena felt the other woman’s breath ghost across her neck before the warmth of her love’s kiss against her cheek. “Always.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was sponsored by [The Atheist Reverand Of Imgur!](http://the-atheist-reverand-of-imgur.tumblr.com) Thanks for your support!


	7. Chapter 7

Lena felt a little guilty about avoiding Winston’s lab for the better part of a week – he’d been a wonderful friend, and she felt incredibly grateful for all he’d done. At the same time, though, she’d spent so long in the containment chamber (once she’d returned to reality) that being _anywhere else on earth_ was incredibly appealing.

Still, he’d asked her to stop by to discuss how the accelerator was working for her, and besides, some of the possible capabilities he’d mentioned had sounded _awfully_ interesting.

If she was going to get unstuck in time, the very least the universe could do – aside from getting her back home to Emily – was make her a superhero, really.

“Winston? Hullo? Are you home, luv?”

The lab seemed unoccupied until she heard Winston’s voice come from above her. “Be right down!”

She looked up, and realized the scientist was hanging by his feet from the large tire suspended from the ceiling. “Oh!”

Winston smiled, then swung to grab a bar set in the wall, hanging off it for a moment before righting himself and dropping to the floor. “Sorry, _someone_ was complaining about my lack of exercise today.”

Athena simulated a sigh, to Lena’s great amusement. “Winston, a healthy body is a –”

“Healthy mind, I know, I know. I should never have let Angela give you that biodata monitoring protocol.” Winston shook his head, but his smile belied his words. “Anyway – welcome back, Lena! How are you feeling?”

Lena smiled. “Would you like the real answer or the polite answer?”

“Real,” Winston replied instantly, “because if it’s something I can help with, I want to know.”

Lena did her best to hug the massive scientist, burying her head against his dark fur. “It’s working, Winston, and it’s working really well, but there’s days where I just…I keep expecting to be _gone_ again. To leave her again. And it scares the hell out of me. I wake up and I’m not sure _when_ I’ll be. If I’m still in the same life, the same place.”

Lena let some tears fall, blinking her eyes clear. “But I turn around, and Em’s right there…and it helps. It really helps.”

Winston carefully returned the hug, then released Lena so she could take a few steps back. “I don’t want to say I understand, because I haven’t been through what you experienced…but I get it.” He paused, looking up towards the ceiling. “I…I dream about the moon, sometimes. About living there. About what happened. It doesn’t go away. But it gets easier.”

Lena nodded, putting a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. “Do…do you talk to anyone?”

Winston nodded. “Angela set me up with someone. She mentioned she’d give Emily a list.”

“Thanks, I’ll bother Em about that later, then.” Lena reached up and tapped the accelerator’s front fairing. “So, you said you and Athena had some ideas for how I can use this…?”

Grinning, Winston lead her further into the lab. “We did indeed. The accelerator is obviously the biggest piece of the puzzle, but let me show you something.” When they reached his workbench, Winston held up a pair of what looked, as far as Lena could tell, like a set of running goggles with a single wide lens. “I’d like you to try these on for me.”

Lena’s eyebrows rose in confusion, but she took the goggles from him anyway, slipping them on and adjusting the straps until she had a good comfortable fit. “Oh-kay. Am I going to be running the hurdles next?”

Winston chuckled as he reached for his tablet. “Not exactly. The band and the frames of the goggles contain several neural engram moni….well. They basically read your brainwaves.”

Lena blinked. “What? Why?”

“Well,” Winston smiled, “it may be easier if I show you.” Tapping in some commands on the tablet, the discs of energy projected from the accelerator suddenly brightened and began to spin a bit faster. “I’m unlocking the functions we’d had restricted until now. Give the goggles a minute to handshake and sync with the main unit.”

Lena was about to ask what that meant when the goggles suddenly began projecting a HUD for her – a set of three arrows at the corner of her vision, and a small crosshair in the center. “Ooo. That’s spiff.”

“I’m glad you approve,” Winston noted, “now – what I’d like you to do is pick a point at the far end of the lab, and focus on it.”

Lena did so, then nodded. “Got it…”

“Good. Now – don’t walk or run towards it – just think about _being_ there.”

“ _Wha_ –” Lena felt her entire body _shift_ , as if she’d suddenly been picked up by the current of what Winston had begun calling the ‘Slipstream effect’, and her heart froze for a moment, hammering back to life when she suddenly found herself in the exact spot she’d been focusing on. “– _at!"_

Blinking, she turned to face Winston, who was smiling at her from where he still stood. The little set of arrows in her HUD now showed two filled arrows and one empty, which slowly began to refill as she stood.

Without being told, she focused on the space where she had been and thought of _being_ there, that same sensation gripped her…and there she was!

Winston tapped on his tablet, then nodded with satisfaction. “So I think you know why the goggles are monitoring your brainwaves now?”

Lena couldn’t help but grin, the earlier fear fading as she realized she was _in control_ of the way she’d been picked up and carried. “So…I’m basically a miniature _Slipstream_ now?”

“More or less,” Winston agreed, “the targeting software is derived from what we developed for the aircraft’s matrix, and projecting the field and having it pull you to it is based on the same principle. Now – the other function…this will be a little more complicated. I want you to try running towards the other side of the lab – and then taking yourself back to where you were a few seconds before.”

Lena did as asked, and it…it was _weird_ . Like she’d been pulled like taffy and then suddenly snapped back…but she could actually see the hands of the clock in front of her reversing as she did, her feet landing back just where she was. “Whoa…that’s the _oddest_ sensation.”

Winston took a few notes on the tablet, then put it down on his desk. “If that works the way I believe it will, that won’t just move you back in time – as I mentioned it should actually undo any damage inflicted to the unit or yourself.”

“So,” Lena looked thoughtfully down at herself, “is there a limit on that?”

Winston took off his glasses, tapping them against his lips before he spoke. “We’re not sure, honestly. I’ve limited the teleportation effect to regenerate every three seconds to prevent draining the power cell faster than the accelerator can recharge itself, and the ‘rewind’ effect seems limited to about five seconds into the past right now – any further puts a pretty significant drain on your power, so unless we rigged up an external battery system I’m reluctant to take it too far. But beyond that…”

Lena considered that, then nodded. “Any other tricks I should know about?”

Winston grinned. “You’re the one using it, so when you figure new ones out, please let me know.”

* * *

Emily felt a bit of _déja vu_ walking into a blockhouse with Winston to watch a test, but this time instead of watching Lena take to the air from the ATC, it was to watch Lena taking on the pistol  & obstacle training course, with Ana standing next to the bulletproof window with a thoughtful expression on her face.

“You’re right on time,” the Watchpoint Commander observed, “she’s just getting ready to start.”

Emily nodded. “So what exactly do you have her doing?”

“This is something of a proof of concept,” Winston explained, “to see how she can perform in combat conditions using the accelerator’s functions beyond simply stabilizing her in time and space.”

Before the scientist could go on, a horn blared, and the holding area at the start of the course opened.

Lena was off like a shot, the accelerator casting blue light along the ground. She had a pistol in each hand and took the first set of barriers fairly conventionally, leaping over two and firing at targets that popped up along the way.

Things got more interesting when she reached the next obstacle, a barbed wire covered moat that most would be expected to shimmy through. What Lena did, with a sound that _still_ made Emily’s heart leap into her throat when she heard it, was disappear – or rather, disappear and then (thank god) re-appear almost instantly, a good ten meters in midair above the course, arcing over the moat and taking out the four targets that popped up on either side for good measure before rolling as she landed and then driving forward.

The next demonstration of Lena’s new abilities came when a target appeared with a rapidly cycling paintball gun, which splattered a line of bright green across Lena’s chest.

Lena appeared to pull herself backwards in midair, the paint disappearing as she reappeared a few feet back of where the paintball gun had been triggered, and this time ‘blinked’ herself into cover as soon as she rematerialized, letting the barrage pass harmlessly through the air before popping up and knocking the target out.

Lena reloaded as the target fell backwards, and continued to demolish the course before finally coming to the end with a flourish, leaping up into the air and twirling before she landed on the bright white “FINISH” that had been painted on the ground.

Ana clicked her stopwatch off and whistled. “1 minute, 10 seconds.”

Emily raised an eyebrow. “What was the record?”

“Two minutes forty five.”

Despite the lingering fear she still felt when Lena moved back and forth in time, Emily couldn’t help but smile. “That’s my girl.”

Winston tapped a a tablet. “Remote telemetry from the accelerator shows no anomalies, no destabilization. Everything worked exactly as it was supposed to and her presence in local space is completely normal.”

Ana tapped a hand against her side thoughtfully. “Any ill effects from the damage it received? Or the reversal?”

“No,” Winston reported with a smile, “not even a flutter. I would say that it is 100% combat capable.”

Ana nodded. “Very well.” She looked over to Emily. “How do you feel, Emily?”

The redhead raised an eyebrow. “What does that matter?”

“You have probably guessed that we’re going to offer Lena a field agent position.” Ana looked at her carefully. “It’s one thing to be involved with a test pilot – even one who could be asked to fly in combat. It’s another to be involved with someone who will be a front line combatant.”

Emily looked over to where Winston was attempting to act like he was focusing on nothing but his figures. “You didn’t tell her?”

Winston coughed. “Athena and I didn’t feel it was appropriate to break the news until you did.”

Ana’s eyes narrowed. “Tell me what, exactly?”

Despite the serious nature of the conversation, Emily couldn’t help the smile that came to her lips. “I’m not ‘involved’ with Lena. I’m engaged to her.”

The captain’s eyes widened with surprise, then she startled Emily by pulling her into a hug. “Congratulations!” She pulled back then, frowning. “How long?”

“Her first full evening back,” Emily answered, “I wasn’t missing my chance to ask her again.”

The older woman glowered. “You should have _told_ me. I’d have brought a gift when I visited.”

“We were waiting until…” Emily gestured towards the range where she’d been running, and vaguely in the direction of the lab complex, “all this was settled.”

Ana considered that. “I suppose I can’t blame you. Still…you would be an army wife, then.” 

Emily chuckled. “If things had been reversed, and Lena had to come off flight status while I continued to work here, she’d have been in the same position.”

Ana tilted her head slightly, her braid slipping off of her shoulder. “In a sense. But are you ready for that?”

Emily took a sigh, becoming fully serious. “Honestly…every time she does her new disappearing trick, I get worried it won’t _work_ . That she’ll disappear again and not come back. Even knowing we have the ability to help pull her back, it’s scary. But…I told Winston before, she belongs here. She’s _always_ belonged here. Now she’ll get the chance to be the hero that she always dreamed of being.”

That got a thoughtful nod. “I’m going to be speaking to Jack after I leave here, and if all goes as I expect we’ll be making the offer to her this afternoon.” Ana checked her watch, then smiled. “Once that’s done…you two are coming over to my house for dinner this evening, and we’ll be celebrating her promotion _and_ your engagement.”

Emily smiled. “I’ll be looking forward to it.”

Ana nodded, then paused, her eyes growing serious. “There’s one other thing that you should know.”

* * *

Lena looked at herself in the bathroom mirror.

She wasn’t Flight Lieutenant Oxton, RAF anymore. That was a bit odd. Even though she’d been a part of Overwatch this whole time she’d still technically been part of the Royal Air Force and seconded over, same as Emily. Now, though…

_Agent Tracer, Overwatch._

She tried a smile.

It fit pretty well, she thought.

She started in surprise at a knock at the bathroom door. “Lena? Are you about done in there?”

Blushing, she opened the door. “Sorry, sorry! I just…got to thinking.”

Emily raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Just…taking the offer. Formally resigning my RAF commission and becoming a field agent instead of being an attached asset and all of that.”

The redhead nodded, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Ahh. I…Ana told me she’d be making you the offer. I thought you’d be happy.”

“Oh, no, I mean I am!” Lena shook her head as she reached up to cover Emily’s hand with her own. “I…it’s a life long dream, you know? I grew up watching people like Cap, Morrison, Reinhardt, all of them. Heroes. All I ever wanted to be one was one of them, growing up.”

Emily moved so she could embrace her from behind. “You always were one. Now the rest of the world gets to know, too.”

She ducked her head with a little smile. “Are you OK with this?”

Emily’s eyes found hers in the mirror. “Are you really asking me that, or yourself?”

Lena laughed softly. “You keep figuring me out before I do.”

She could feel Emily’s smile against her skin as her fiancée leaned in to lightly kiss her neck. “I’m going to be your wife. That’s part of my job.”

“Are you OK with not telling people? Publically, I mean?” The rules about keeping dependents confidential _made sense_ , given what she’d be getting up to, but something about it…it bothered her a little. They weren’t asking her to go into the _closet_ , exactly, but…

Emily sighed. “I’d be lying if I said I was happy about it, but after Ana told me about what happened to Colonel Lacroix…I understand it. I wonder how many others have to hide in plain sight the same way.” She chuckled ruefully. “I suppose if we can’t invite anyone who isn’t cleared for the information, it saves quite a lot of money on the wedding.”

Lena snorted. “I suppose. At least we don’t have to pretend _here._ ”

Emily considered that. “Tell you what, for in public…you’ve got your watch, right?”

Lena nodded. “Yeah, I do…like I said, makes more sense than a ring for me.”

Emily smiled. “So maybe we should go find one for me, too.”

“Oh, I like that…” Lena turned so she could capture her lips in a proper kiss.  “I do want this. I do. I just…it’s so many big changes, all close together. It’s a lot.”

Emily returned the kiss gently. “You’ll make it through, Flight Lieutenant Oxton. I’ll be there with you.”

Lena grinned. “That’s not my rank anymore, Chief Technician Arrington.”

Emily chuckled throatily. “You will always be _my_ Flight Lieutenant, Oxton. Now finish getting dressed before I do something foolish and we’re late to dinner. Ana’s expecting us.”

* * *

Wearing a blue and black Overwatch duty uniform instead of a type 14 or a flight suit wasn’t a bad change. In fact, Lena rather liked the figure she cut in it, even with the accelerator strapped on over it. She’d strapped on her goggles but left them pushed up over her eyes (no need to teleport all over the place right now, she hoped) as she reached the briefing room she’d been told to report to for her first official day on the job.

“Agent Tracer reporting as ordered, ma’am!”

Captain Amari was there, but also another man she didn’t recognize at first, much taller and with a broad, powerful build, the left side of his face covered in angular armor plates and an obviously cybernetic replacement eye, his left arm a bright red bionic replacement.

Ana returned the salute, then waved her to a seat. “Good morning, Lena. I’d like you to meet Lt. Coronado – he’ll be serving as a training officer for you. Since you’re coming in with some…unique abilities, I thought it would be best to have a similarly unique mentor to show you how we handle things in Tactical and Field Operations.”

Lena’s eyes widened as she recognized the name. “ _Atlas_ Coronado? _Ironfield_ Coronado? Seriously?!”

Coronado raised his remaining eyebrow. “Haven’t heard someone mention Ironfield in a long time.”

Lena could feel herself blushing a bit. “I spent a lot of time studying Overwatch and their actions during the Crisis when I was younger. I…well. I told Cap when she came to Coningsby, all of you were my heroes, growing up. Still are, really.”

“Huh.” Coronado seemed to consider that, then smiled slightly. “I don’t suppose you could tell the Towering Inferno that? She just about killed my XO last time Halls broke the plane he borrowed.”

Lena blinked. “The Towering… _oh_. Ah. Sorry, Emily is a bit possessive when it comes to her aircraft. Trust me, I was on the receiving end enough times.”

That got a snort that might have been laugher. Appropriate for a guy who had been nicknamed ‘The Bull’, she supposed.

“Atlas normally handles commando operations with his men – small scale, quick strikes.” Ana looked over. “He’ll be evaluating a few of the tricks you demonstrated for me on the pistol course and the best ways to use them. Once that’s done, we’ll be working you into operations – a few with his men in the Red Horns, and then wherever you’re the best fit.”

“Well,” Lena grinned, “I guess we ought to get started then.”

* * *

_“All right, Tracer,”_ Coronado’s gruff voice sounded in her ear thanks to the comm earbud she’d slipped on, _“I’m satisfied you won’t shoot yourself in the foot or blow off your own hand with pulse munitions. Congratulations. Feel like you’re ready for a little challenge?”_

Lena grinned as she checked her watch to confirm the accelerator was at full charge, then tightened its fittings for a good run. The last two weeks had been quite a lot of fun, actually, particularly when Winston had dropped off a pair of vambraces that contained holsters for the pulse pistols he’d worked on streamlining for her use.

“I think I’m up for a bit of exercise, sir. What did you have in mind?”

_“Set your pistols to training power, and grab a belt of dummy bombs, then report to the urban combat range. After that…call it a little game of hide and seek.”_

The range seemed deserted when she arrived, but Lena knew that if it was hide and seek, then she was starting off as the seeker.

_Better get a good look around, then._

In a heartbeat she was up on the rooftop of a fake apartment building, sprinting from cover to cover as she looked for any sign of targets… _ah_. Looks like they’d brought some training bots to the party, helpfully marked with bright red lights to designate them as enemies.

Leaping from the rooftop, she let herself freefall for the first few stories, then blinked herself behind the line of three bots, putting a burst onto the back of each drone’s rectangular head. As the bots shut down, she ran, then leapt up onto a fire escape to help clear the area again.

She’d found and tagged three more “pods” of bots when the game suddenly changed, her earbud coming to life with Atlas’ gruff voice.

“ _Not bad. Let’s see how you do with this.”_

The sound of a jump pack's thrusters igniting from _behind her_ made Lena whirl, and what she saw was the commando dressed head to toe in red armor, a battle rifle in his hands, arcing upwards thanks to the compact jump pack he wore.

As Atlas began to fire bursts of dye rounds, attempting to bracket her, Tracer decided to unpack a few of the tricks she’d been practicing as she’d experimented with her accelerator.

The first part was simple enough - blinking backwards and putting herself out of the line of fire, “remembering” where the cover was from her last look before she’d turned.

The second part was harder...trying to concentrate on _slowing down_ , not quite rewinding herself, but making the way she perceived the flow of events around her change. Instead of bullets flying towards her as Coronado came in for a landing (and would almost certainly bounce upwards again in another jump as soon as he touched down), they all hung in midair, the air rippling around each object as they pushed it out of the way.

It was an amazing trick, but it took a *lot* of concentration - too much to use during an entire fight, but for a situation like this? Perfect.

With all the time in the world, she fired shots that would tag the only round that had a threat of grazing her, then fired a couple of rounds that would intersect his flight path - not enough to drop him, but enough to stagger the larger man, and that would be enough.

She closed her eyes and release her concentration as she ducked back into cover, and she heard the sound of her shots pinging off armor plate as the world sped back up again.

There was a _whoomph_ of thrust as Atlas touched down and bounced again, and Tracer broke cover just in time to avoid getting a faceful of dye as he fired another burst from above. Instead of trying to match his jet-boosted bounds, she went horizontal, zig-zagging from side to side between buildings, unconsciously pushing herself to move _faster_ , and to her surprise the accelerator responded, the street blurring at the edges of her vision.

Flicking her eyes down to her wrist, she realized the power gauge was down to the ⅔ mark - whatever she’d managed to do it was chewing through her battery like mad - and forced herself to slow down, leaping upwards and putting herself up on a rooftop to give her a moment to recover.

Her heart was pounding and she had to gulp for a lungful of air, but a wary glance down showed that she’d managed to get away from her pursuer, who was now doubling back to look for her...which gave her an idea, actually.

After one more deep breath, she holstered her pistols and reached for one of the pulse bombs on her belt. She took a moment to check Atlas’ position, and then leapt from the building.

She made sure Coronado had spotted her and leapt upwards, then concentrated on pulling herself backwards, twisting as she rewound, reappearing just behind where the commando was reaching apogee from his leap...in a perfect position to slap the pulse bomb’s magnetic base to his jetpack. “Here you go!”

Grinning, she let herself fall to earth, blinking down to ground level just as the bomb ‘detonated’ with a loud beep and a burst of bright yellow paint that struck a vivid contrast against the red plating.

The jetpack shut off with a sputtering cough, and without its power to help ease his landing, Atlas clattered into the street, a few sparks flying from his impact with the ground.

She trotted over as Coronado pulled off his helmet, shaking his head to clear out the cobwebs. “Sorry about the rough landing!”

Atlas snorted, giving her a sardonic grin as he pulled himself into a sitting position. “Don’t apologize for winning, Oxton. Congratulations - you just graduated.”

“Thanks, then.” She grinned, then offered a hand, grunting with the effort of helping him to his feet. “Cor, you’re heavier than you look!”

“Iron bones,” Coronado deadpanned, “and you’re welcome. I’ll let Ana know you’ll be riding with my boys the next time we’re called out. I can’t wait to see you pull that super-speed trick the next time we need a fast recon.”

Lena nodded. “And after that…?”

“You’ll probably be putting on a show like this for Strike-Commander Morrison - maybe Reyes too. Do me a personal favor if Gabe shows up and slap one of those bombs on his ass?”

Lena giggled. “I’ll do my best!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This episode was partially sponsored by [The Atheist Reverand of Imgur](http://the-atheist-reverand-of-imgur.tumblr.com/) and the character of Lt. Antonio "Atlas" Coronado is their OC Creation.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains canonical major character (apparent) deaths and events related to the Fall of Overwatch. Nothing graphic, but worth keeping in mind. 
> 
> Wedding photo by [Jadie!](http://jadiejadiejadie.tumblr.com)

Despite the covert nature of the event, the wedding of Lena Oxton and Emily Arrington managed to be a beautiful day.

Though they had to conceal their wedding from the public - even Emily’s mother - the senior staff at Overwatch made a point of giving them the best affair possible.

Ana arranged for the chapel at Holy Trinity to be secured for their use.

Winston stood as Lena’s best man.

Angela Ziegler offered to act as Emily’s maid of honor.

It turned out that Strike-Commander Morrison was a pretty skilled hand with a camera.

Though most of their comrades from Coningsby had been returned to the RAF at the closure of the Slipstream project, some of the other full time Watchpoint staff they’d gotten to know attended and celebrated with them.

Lena had felt a bit self conscious about wearing her accelerator over a tuxedo, but she’d never looked more beautiful in Emily’s eyes.

Emily had thought about wearing her uniform, as she’d had for Lena’s aborted funeral, but in the end she’d decided to go with a simple white satin dress that left her shoulders and back bare, topped with a lace veil. She’d been afraid it was too plain, but Lena had never seen her so radiantly elegant.

Lena didn’t have any objections to an Anglican service, but they went for the short form ceremony - much to the relief of the Rector, who still remembered the rather memorable interruption to the last service he’d performed for them.

_Lena and Emily, you have come here today to seek the blessing of God and of his Church upon your marriage. I require, therefore, that you promise, with the help of God, to fulfill the obligations which Christian Marriage demands._

_Lena, you have taken Emily to be your wife. Do you promise to love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, to be faithful to her as long as you both shall live?_

"I do."

Lena would never understand how she managed to sound so calm.

_Emily, you have taken Lena to be your wife. Do you promise to love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, to be faithful to her as long as you both shall live?_

"I will."

Emily’s eyes were filled with tears, but she smiled as she made her promise.

_Will you who have witnessed these promises do all in your power to uphold these two persons in their marriage?_

"We Will."

They took each other’s hands, and the accelerator had nothing to do with why time seemed to stop for both of them.

_Now that Lena and Emily have given themselves to each other by solemn vows and with the joining of hands, I pronounce that they are married, in the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit._

_Those whom God has joined together, let no one put asunder._

"Amen."

_If you wish to seal this marriage with a kiss, you may do so._

They very much did, and the room rang with cheers and applause.

* * *

After six months of high profile missions, Tracer had quickly become one of the new public faces of Overwatch around the world - a younger, kinder, sympathetic figure compared to Morrison’s intimidating cragginess or some of the more hardened old guard.

Lena wasn’t a fool - she read the papers like anyone else, and knew that more and more people wanted to know _why_ Overwatch was still needed. Why they were acting as something more and more like world police than anything else. So they sent her out with a smile and a kind word, to put a bit of charm and a little gentler face on it all.

She didn’t necessarily mind - she believed in what they did just as much as the day she’d shaken Ana’s hand and signed on for the _Slipstream_ \- but it did mean a lot of time in front of cameras after (and sometimes even during) missions, often leaving her feeling completely drained out by the time she made her way home.

Despite it being close to midnight, Emily was waiting on the couch when Lena crawled into their flat. “Hello, gorgeous.”

“Hi, luv. Still up?”

“Saw you on the news. Thought I’d wait for you to get home before turning in.”

Lena couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face at moments like this. “Thank you.”

Emily smiled back as she stood, crossing to offer a kiss. “Did you get any food on the flight back?”

That got a shrug. “Eh, enough, anyway. I didn’t really feel up to much after doing the PR thing.”

The redhead nodded understanding. She was just as aware of why Lena was in such demand of late. “How does a back rub and bed sound?”

“Heavenly,” Lena admitted as she let Emily lead her back into the bedroom, “could probably use a shower, too…”

“Mm. Well, I could help with that…”

Lena grinned. “I’d appreciate it…”

Emily raised an eyebrow, her smile turning a bit wicked. “Would you? And just how do you think you’d show that appreciation, then?”

“Oh,” Lena leaned in to nibble lightly at her wife’s ear, “I think I might just start at the top and work my way down…”

They made it to the shower, and eventually into bed, but it was quite a while before either of them actually slept.

The next morning as they ate breakfast in their living room, Lena’s communicator went off with an alert that Winston would be acting CO at Watchpoint: Gibraltar while Captain Amari deployed to support an operation with Strike-Commander Morrison and a hostage rescue team.

Emily frowned as she relayed the news. “I’m a little surprised you didn’t get the call.”

Lena shrugged as she settled back down on the couch. “Probably because I was just out - and got back in fairly late. Even if they do like to run me ragged, there _are_ supposed to be some limits on that sort of thing.” She grinned. “Besides, can you imagine me as a sniper? Sitting in one spot for hours?”

Emily snorted. “Point. More tea, Vicar?”

They’d managed to enjoy the better part of a day off when Emily’s phone rang.

“Arrington speaking. Oh - hello, Winston. What - yes...no, sorry, I think she left her phone in the bedroom to recharge. She’s right here. Why…” Lena sat up as Emily’s eyes widened, her body going rigid in shock. “I...I see. Do you need us to...OK. Thank you. I...I’m so sorry, Winston. Please let me know what if there’s anything we can do? Of course. Yes. We’ll be there. Just let us know.”

Whatever had happened, Lena knew instinctively it was very, very bad. “Em? What’s going on?”

Emily stared down at her phone, her face ashen. “It’s…it’s Ana. Captain Amari. She…she didn’t make it back.”

Lena stood, seizing her wife in a tight embrace. “When? Did Winston say what happened?”

Emily shrugged. “All he said was that Commander Morrison’s hostage rescue team got ambushed. She was covering their escape, but he didn't know details past that.”

“Oh.” Lena looked up into Emily’s eyes. “We’ll help any way we can, soon as they let us know. She was there for us. We’ll be there for her.”

Emily nodded. “She told me she had a daughter…I understand they weren't on good terms. I wonder if she knows yet.”

Lena frowned. “I dunno. She _should_ , but…I'll ring Winston back.”

Emily’s arms tightened around her. “Don't…not yet. Please? Don't go.”

Lena squeezed back. “OK, pet. I'm right here. Promise I'm right here.” Emily was silent for a moment, then buried her head against her shoulder as both of their tears began to flow.

* * *

Emily had never attended an Islamic funeral service before. The _imam_ who handled the burial had arranged for a human shaped bundle wrapped in strips of white cotton, since Ana’s body had not been recovered, and she and Lena did their best to follow the cues of other mourners.

When the funeral procession reached the cemetery where a plot and a simple stone marker had been prepared, a tall woman with raven hair and hawkish features wearing an Egyptian Army dress uniform broke from the head of the pack to stand at the side of the grave.

_I suppose that must be Fareeha, then._

The _imam_ handed her three odd colored balls of what appeared to be clay, which she placed in the ground before the pall bearers lowered the shrouded ‘body’ onto them.

Fareeha was handed a pan of loose earth, and she seized a handful before speaking, to Emily’s surprise, in English. Perhaps a concession to those in attendance who didn't speak Arabic.

“We created you from it,” she recited as she began to pour the earth over the body, “you return into it, and from it we will raise you a second time.”

Fareeha returned to the crowd of mourners, and the _imam_ recited two more prayers before they began to fill the grave, and Fareeha returned to tamp it down.

Once she had finished, mourners began to walk to Fareeha and express condolences. Unsurprisingly Strike Commander Morrison and the senior officers of Overwatch were some of the first to meet her, but they were able to make their way in the middle of the line, until they reached her.

To their surprise, Fareeha greeted _them._

“You must be Tracer,” she offered as she extended a hand, “I've heard a lot about you.”

“Please, call me Lena.” She gestured to Emily, “Emily and I both worked with…well, worked for your mother. She recruited us for the _Slipstream_ project. I'm…I know you're hearing ‘I'm sorry’ a lot today, but she’s going to be missed.”

Something in Fareeha’s eyes went flat when Lena mentioned being recruited, but she warmed again at Lena’s quiet sympathy.

“I…appreciate that, Lena. Thank you.”

“Your mother was there for me after the accident,” Emily offered quietly, “before we knew there was a chance to bring Lena home. If there’s anything we can do, please let us know.”

Fareeha nodded. “I'm going to need to return to my unit soon, but…I'll speak with the Commander about how to contact you.”

Lena hesitated, then hugged the younger Amari, and after a moment of surprise Fareeha returned it, and Emily did the same.

“Thank you both,” Fareeha murmured as she stepped back, “I'm afraid I need to speak to a few others.”

“Yes,” Emily agreed as she gently turned Lena away, “sorry, of course. Please take care.”

* * *

_-reporting live from what was, until this morning, Overwatch headquarters. An aerial assault from vehicles registered to Overwatch itself began just before sunrise, leading to a pitched battle that ended in a massive explosion that has reduced the entire complex to rubble. Reports indicated that Overwatch Strike Commander Morrison was on the premises today, but with no sign of him, he has been listed as “presumed dead.”_

_Almost as shocking are the files which were leaked onto the Internet shortly after the explosion, revealing the existence of a deniable operations group known as Blackwatch, who appear to have been responsible for a number of acts of what can only be called terrorism in the name of “keeping order” – exactly what Overwatch had been charged to prevent in the wake of the Omnic Crisis._

Emily clicked off the TV, stunned. “I…don’t think either of us will be going into work today.”

Lena almost collapsed onto the couch, her voice stunned. “…Yeah…no… _hell_.”

Emily looked over “This Blackwatch business…did you know?”

Lena shook her head slowly. “I’d heard the name, but I thought they were supposed to be covert recon and counter-terrorism, not…whatever the hell was going on.”

Emily nodded. She hadn't expected otherwise, but she had to make sure. “Do you think we’ll…do you think there’s going to _be_ an Overwatch after this?”

“No idea, pet.” Lena looked down at her hands. “No idea about anything right now.”

* * *

Lena hadn’t really been sure what she’d expected when they’d gotten a call from Winston letting them know that all of the Watchpoint’s staff and all assigned agents were to report to the main assembly yard in an hour.

She’d been rather nonplussed when they learned it involved being _arrested_.

“Under the conditions of the PETRAS Act, all Overwatch activity has been declared illegal. As such we will be taking you into custody, and we will be conducting interviews with each of you, while we look into the activities of the clandestine force known as Blackwatch…”

Thankfully, Lena and Emily had been kept in the same holding group.

They were less thankful when they learned it was because they were considered to be officially under suspicion.

The UN investigator seated across from them in the interview room frowned at them as he flipped through their dossiers, and Emily decided that she really did not like this frumpy little man.

“One of our largest concerns is members of the former Overwatch organization who might have been involved with the plot to attack them from within. Considering that, it's very _interesting_ … that the two of you not only joined at the same time, but continue to reside together even now.”

Lena stiffened, but Emily fired first, fixing the investigator with a scathing look. “And where exactly do you keep _your_ wife, then, inspector? Because I rather prefer mine at home.” The _‘twit!’_ at the end was left unspoken, but clearly implied.

“Ah. I’m. Ah…your public records don’t show…”

Lena picked up from there. “We were advised that it would be made confidential because of my role in field operations after the _Slipstream_ incident. I understand that became a standard practice for high profile agents after the death of Colonel Lacroix and his wife.”

“I see.” To his credit, the investigator seemed to consider the matter settled by that explanation, closing their dossiers and putting them into a filing box. “You have my apologies, ladies.”

“Thank you,” Emily accepted coolly, “will that be all?”

The inspector coughed as he tried to recover his aplomb. “For you, Ms…ah…Mrs…”

She fixed him with a flinty glare. “ _Chief_  Arrington is fine, thank you.”

“Chief Arrington, we will not need anything else from you – you had minimal contact with senior staff, and your role was well documented. As for Agent Oxton, because of your more visible role in the organization, you may be subpoenaed by the security council to appear at the planned hearings in New York. That is a matter above my pay grade, but I am required to inform you of the possibility.”

Lena sighed. “Right. Fine. Are we required to stay in Gibraltar?”

“No,” the inspector shook his head, “in fact we are discouraging it. The Watchpoint will be decommissioned and base housing will be closed in the next 30 days.”

Emily stood, disgusted. “So you’re shutting us down _and_ kicking everyone out of their homes.”

“That’s not really _accurate_ , Chief. Under the PETRAS act, we are required to end _all_ Overwatch activity, including their infrastructure.”

“Well, then, if you’ll excuse us,” Emily spat, “we need to go violate the Act so we can go pack and wish our friends goodbye.”

She turned and stormed out, and the only thing that kept her from slamming the door on the way was Lena following a few steps behind her.

“I can’t _believe_ this. You’d think we were criminals!” Lena was shocked, but there was heat in her voice as well. “After everything Overwatch did – that _we_ did here…this is _shit_ _._ ”

Emily sighed. “Tarred with the same brush, I suppose. All things considered I rather doubt Supermarine will take me back, and I already got a notice that the RAF considers me a reservist again.”

“Well…you did talk about opening up that shop.” Despite the frustrations, Lena smiled at her as Emily turned, staring. “Think you’d still let your wife answer the phones?”

“I…” Emily blinked. “You’d be OK with that? I mean…you could be – _should be_ – doing so much more, Lena.”

“Maybe,” Lena shrugged, “but right now…I wouldn’t say no to a little time that’s just you and me. Recharge batteries. Do things that make _us_ happy, and we’ll figure the rest out as we go.” She smiled shyly. “Stop pretending that I’m not married to the best girl in the world?”

Emily couldn’t help but smile back. “You make that sound pretty good, when you put it like that.”


	9. Chapter 9

Lena sighed as she passed another wall with “ONLY BUILT TO **SERVE!** ” splattered across it in lurid red paint.

“Home sweet home,” she muttered as she walked up to the chip shop near the hotel they’d been staying in, “didn’t miss that part at all.”

She hadn’t thought as much about the anti-Omnic sentiments that had simmered under the surface in the UK since the Crisis when she’d been younger, but the more she’d gotten out in the world, particularly during her all too brief career as part of Overwatch, the more painfully she was aware of just how ugly her home could be.

The buzz of her mobile in her pocket was unexpected, but a nice distraction before her thoughts went any darker. She had plenty of reasons to be depressed as it was, no need to add more.

+20 4012 738195? That was…+20 was Egypt, wasn’t it? Who did she even _know_ in – _Oh!_

Lena answered the call with a grin, tucking herself into the mouth of an alley to get out of the street. “Hullo?”

_-Hello, Lena, it’s Fareeha Amari._

“Hi, luv! This was a nice surprise. What’s going on?”

_-I was hoping to get some advice from you. I still had your number from when…from after the funeral._

Lena nodded even though Fareeha couldn’t hear her, the back fairing of the accelerator making a soft clunk as she leaned back against the brick wall. “Right, yeah. Took me a second to figure out who was calling. Wait…what time is it there, anyway?”

Fareeha chuckled, and Lena liked the sound of that a lot better than the drawn, reserved woman she’d briefly met at the side of her mother’s grave.

- _I’m actually not in Egypt today. I mustered out of the army last month, and I’m in Stockholm. That’s part of why I was calling._

“Oh, ok, interesting. So what’s going on, then?”

- _I had a job offer from a private security company. Helix International. It’s…well, it’s tempting. Not what I expected to do at all, really, but I’d get a chance to do some interesting work. Cutting edge equipment, mostly back home in Egypt, but with a chance to travel, too._

Lena considered that. “Sounds aces to me, luv. Not sure why you needed to talk to me, though.”

Fareeha sighed, and Lena couldn’t help but think that she sounded an awful lot like her mother in that moment.

_-I suppose I was wondering…after your accident, when they offered you a chance to join Overwatch, how did it feel? Was it…did you jump right away, or did you need to think about it?_

“Oof. Ask me an easy one next time…” Lena bit her lip as she thought back, the memories just a touch bittersweet. “I guess for me…I wanted to be a hero. I wanted to help people. In some ways, maybe even more than I wanted to be a pilot, as much as I loved to fly. It was hard, giving up the cockpit, but knowing I could still make a _difference_ , that…that made it easier.”

Fareeha was quiet for long moment before she spoke again, her voice taking on some new warmth.

- _When you put it like that, I think I know what I want to do – and I feel more confident about doing it. Thanks, Lena. That really did help._

“My pleasure!”

- _I don’t want to pry, after everything that happened, but…how are you and Emily doing?_

“Mm. Well, we’re OK enough. Just trying to get our feet back under us, really. Looking for a new flat, and Em is talking about possibly opening up a mechanic’s shop, since neither of us can go back to what we used to do, so she’s doing a little work to figure out what she’d need to get the money and the space together.”

- _So you don’t have a place to stay yet?_

“Well, not as _such_ ,” Lena admitted, “Em’s mother offered to have us down to Silverstone but it’s not really…I’m a London girl at heart, and so’s she. So we’re in a hotel for now, and I’m keeping an eye on a few…prospects…”

Movement at the other end of the alley grabbed her attention. A flash of something metallic in the corner of her eye. A sound of a scuffle. Turning, she could see two toughs – god, they looked like kids, really – shoving an M-chassis Omnic against the alley wall, one of the bully boys waving a metal baseball bat under his chin.

_-Lena? Is everything all right?_

Lena looked down at the phone in her hand. “Sorry, ’Reeha. Got to go.”

Dropping the call, she slipped the phone back into her trousers, then reached into her jacket for her goggles, the HUD coming to life as she settled them over her eyes.

 _No pistols. No pulse bombs._ She smirked despite herself. _That’s fine. I used to do for wankers like these with my bare hands anyway._

She concentrated on a spot just behind the lads, and a heartbeat later she was materializing behind them, just in time to catch the tail end of a threat from the one with the bat.

“– get your clankin’ bolts back to the Underground if you know what’s good for ya, or we’ll bust you wide open!”

Well. That was all she needed to hear, personally. She didn’t bother with a quip, or words of any kind really. Just delivered the hardest punch she could to the kidneys of the slightly bigger one, hearing a satisfying grunt of pain in response as he stumbled away.

Baseball Bat whirled at the surprise interruption, bringing the bat around. “Oi, who the _fuck_ –”

Lena weaved back, dodging the wild swing, then put a couple of quick rabbit punches into his gut, doubling him over before driving her knee up into his jaw, the bat clattering to the pavement as he fell.

The one she’d opened up with was back, his hand clamping on her shoulder, and she smirked as she rewound herself backwards, leaving him staring in confusion as she rippled backwards, then spun towards him, snapping her leg out and connecting with his kneecap with a satisfying crack.

“ _ **YOU FUCKING OM LOVER!** _ ”

Baseball bat’s voice was a bit mushy after she’d improved his jaw, but the real unpleasant surprise was the jarring blow across the back of her harness that made her stumble forward before he rushed her from behind, her face going hard into the brickwork. She’d gotten cocky and assumed he was down. Couldn’t make that mistake again.

The accelerator was fine – it had been designed to take a lot more punishment than a baseball bat or a shove into the wall could deliver – but it wasn’t worth taking any more chances.

Blinking for just about her maximum range into the air gave her valuable time to size things back up. The Omnic they’d been attacking had run. Smart lad. The one she’d kneecapped was still down, grabbing at his leg in pain, but his buddy was staring at her as she fell towards him, his bat raised in anticipation of her coming into range. Too bad for him that she knew what to do. Concentrating for the maneuver, she put herself in another blink downward, reappearing just above his head, driving her foot into his jaw with all of her weight and momentum behind it, and rode him to the ground, bouncing back and staring furiously to make sure he wasn’t going to get back up.

The kneecapped one stared in horror at his collapsed friend, then back to her. “…who _are_ you?”

Lena snorted. “You must not watch the news much.” That didn’t seem to get much out of him, but she wasn’t really in the mood to sign an autograph anyway. The sound of a siren grabbed her attention – had someone rung the the plod?

_I suppose I am a little obvious._

Her watch showed her at about two thirds of max power, and the charge indicator on her HUD showed she had a full set of jumps ready to go. Time to get gone.

Leaping up to the fire escape and from there to the rooftops, she started weaving her way back towards the hotel they’d been staying at, her stomach complaining that she hadn’t even been able to pick lunch up for them as she’d planned.

_Em’s gonna kill me…_

* * *

 

Emily frowned as she heard the hotel room door unlatch, setting her tablet down. She’d been doing some research on buildings available and shop spaces when Lena had mentioned going out for lunch, but that wasn’t all that long ago.

“That didn’t take long,” she observed as she turned towards the door, then blinked in surprise as Lena turned to face her after closing the door, a cut at the corner of her mouth and a bruise starting to form at the edge of her jaw, “…what _happened_ to you _?!”_

“Well,” Lena evaded, “I was walking to the chippie when I got a phone call from Fareeha Amari, of all people – seems she’s leaving the Egyptian army and wanted some advice on what to do next. Thought I would have some insight because of what I – what _we_ went through between the _Slipstream_ and Overwatch and kinda falling into one thing and starting over…”

“ _Oxton_ ,” Emily’s hands went to her hips, though – if she were honest – she very much wanted to grab her wife by the straps of her harness and shake her, “ _what. Happened._ ”

Lena wilted under her glare, looking at the hotel room’s carpeted floor. “I’d ducked into an alley to talk to her, and as we were talking these two wankers with a baseball bat grabbed an Omnic off the street and were threatening to smash him up for being out of the Underground, and I…” Lena shook her head. “I couldn’t let that happen, Em. I just…I had to do something.”

Emily’s anger dissipated instantly, and she crossed the room to take Lena up in a hug. “Oh, Lena…”

“I know you’re gonna say I can’t save everyone,” Lena admitted as she put her head against her wife’s shoulder, “but…I couldn’t just turn away from that. I may not be Overwatch any more, but I’m still…”

“You’re still you,” Emily murmured, pressing a kiss to the shorter woman’s forehead, “and you still want to help people. That’s never going to change – and it shouldn’t. Just…” She sighed. “Be careful, love.”

“I’ll do my best,” Lena promised as she returned the hug, “I only got a little scuffed, and that was because I didn’t realize I hadn’t knocked the bugger out cold with the first crack to his gob.”

“…you seem to be implying that you’ll be getting into more fights in the middle of the street.”

Lena stepped back so she could properly make eye contact. “Might have to, some days. You know that.”

“I suppose I do,” Emily admitted before leaning in for a gentle kiss, “but you make damn sure you’re coming home after.”

Lena grinned. “I’ve got some pretty compelling reasons, you know.”

Emily couldn’t help the little smile that always gave her. “Come on, you. Let’s stop at the chemist and get something for that cut, and then we can both get some lunch, since I notice you didn’t actually bring any back.”

“Yeaaaah, well…yeah.”

* * *

 “So, how’s looking for a spot to set up going?”

They’d gone in the _opposite_ direction as Lena’s earlier walk, just to be safe, and settled in at a different chip shop.

“Finding a building isn’t an issue,” Emily admitted, “but finding one we can afford…?” She shrugged, dragging a chip through some curry sauce and munching it before continuing that thought. “Even with the compensation you got from the RAF and Overwatch, and what I put away before we got let go…we’ll need a loan – a big one – and I’m not sure a bank will look at having Overwatch on our CVs as being a good thing, these days.”

Lena nodded glumly after finishing her bite of fish. “Yeah, afraid you’re right.” She paused. “Don’t suppose your mum…”

“She _does_ want to meet you, now that she’s done being cross with me for not telling her that you existed,” Emily admitted, “but cosigning a business loan is probably not the wedding present she had in mind for us.”

“Mm.” Lena was considering that when Emily looked up, past her shoulders, her eyes widening in surprise. “…what?”

“Flight Lieutenant Oxton?”

Lena turned in her chair to see a thin, grey haired man wearing the kind of deceptively simple looking suit that screamed “I have a lot of money, a lot of power, or both” to her. So did the two lads in grey raincoats who had subtly cordoned them off from the rest of the shop.

Her throat went dry, and she had to swallow hard before she could reply. “Um. Not sure you got the memo, but she's retired.”

The suit smiled just a little, his blue eyes crinkling behind his glasses, his accent polished but with a hint of something from the Midlands beneath it. “Perhaps you'd prefer Agent Tracer, then.”

Lena looked at Emily from the corner of her eye – _be careful_ – then looked back to the suit. “Last I checked, she's retired too.”

The suit raised an eyebrow. “There are a pair of very unpleasant young men being tended to at St. Bartholomews this afternoon who might beg to differ.”

Lena winced, but before she could say more, the suit raised his hand. “I don’t really think this is the appropriate place for this conversation. May I ask both of you ladies to come with me?”

She checked back to Emily again, who nodded. Both of them had left a fair bit of their meals uneaten, but suddenly Lena didn’t feel terribly hungry.

Standing, she nodded to Mr. Suit, who gave them a tight little smile. “Excellent. Please follow me – I have a car outside.”

* * *

Emily had felt fairly nervous from the moment she’d realized they’d been boxed in by their host’s security detail. Simply the fact that he _had_ a security detail meant this was a lot bigger than Lena getting nicked for beating up a couple of goons.

That impression was reinforced when they were escorted out to a waiting car – an extended wheelbase Rolls Black Spectre, good lord – where one of the detail men was nice enough to open the door and wave them into the limousine.

Once she’d settled in with Lena beside her, their host took a seat facing them, the doors closing with a heavy thump that spoke of reinforced paneling – probably armored.

_What the hell are we getting into?_

“I understand,” the suited man offered after a few silent minutes of driving, “that congratulations are in order for you both.”

“Ah…” Lena looked over, and Emily offered a little shrug. In for a penny, in for a pound. “Yes, that’s right. We’ll be celebrating our first anniversary in June.”

“That’s lovely,” the man said, then suddenly blinked and shook his head, clucking his tongue at himself, “please forgive me, I’ve been terribly rude by not introducing myself.” He reached into his coat and produced a buff colored business card, marked with the Royal seal. “Sir Michael Wood, KCVO. Permanent Undersecretary for the Foreign and Commonwealth Office.”

Emily took the card – and, yes, that was exactly what it said, along with a few other job titles and a telephone number. She handed it to Lena, who read it with a shocked expression that Emily felt matched her own stunned surprise quite well.

“So,” Sir Michael continued, “obviously I know who both of you are – ah, so I’m not being rude, is it proper to address you as Chief Technician Arrington, still?”

Emily had to kick her brain back into gear before she could speak. “Ah…yes, we decided that between our marriage having to remain secret and a few other things, it was simplest to just leave our names as is.”

Sir Michael nodded. “I do understand. My wife and I are technically public figures ourselves, and it does invite a certain level of complication. Given some of Overwatch’s more…unfortunate history with their dependents, well. I certainly can’t fault their decisions in that regard, at least.”

Emily felt Lena take her hand, and squeezed back. Things went silent again for a moment before Lena spoke again.

“Can I ask what this is about? Why you came to find us?”

Sir Michael gave that little dry smile again. “Not _quite_ yet. I’d prefer to be in a more…appropriate setting. Just a few minutes longer, and I assure you that your questions will be answered.”

* * *

What Sir Michael considered ‘an appropriate setting’ turned out to his office in Whitehall, an odd mix of teak paneled walls, an ultra-modern desk with holographic displays, and a brilliant view of St. James’ Park.

Ushering them in, he gestured to a pair of seats facing his desk before settling down in his own chair.

“Now, then. I do appreciate you both coming with me. As you can imagine, this discussion _is_ technically considered covered by the Official Secrets Act, and it should be handled with discretion.”

Lena and Emily both nodded, waiting for Sir Michael to continue.

“Now, your intervention today notwithstanding,” the bureaucrat observed, “we’ve been interested in an opportunity to speak with you for some time, Lieutenant. Your career with the RAF was exemplary, and even after your accident, you upheld some of the finest ideals during your service with Overwatch – particularly your work off the battlefield, though I must say your combat record can only be called distinguished.”

Lena shifted a bit uncomfortably in her seat. Nothing he was saying was _wrong_ , but she didn’t like getting held up quite like that. She was proud of what she did – but she did it because it was the _right thing to do_ , not because she wanted someone to put her on a pedestal.

Without really thinking about it, she reached out her hand, and a moment later Emily was holding it in a comforting grip, with a little squeeze of acknowledgement as Lena tried to make herself relax.

“I appreciate the compliment, Sir Michael,” she finally replied, “but I’m not really sure why you’d want to speak with me about that. I was out there trying to do the right thing, is all.”

“Quite so,” Sir Michael agreed, “which is why I’d like to know – _we_ would like to know, properly, as I’m speaking for both the Secretary and the PM on this – if you should like to continue.”

Something about the way he said that sent a little shiver up her spine. Was he suggesting what she thought he was? She could catch Emily’s eye, and noticed her wife giving them both a speculative look.

She raised her eyebrow. _Are you thinking what I’m thinking?_

Emily’s shrug was barely perceptible. _Maybe._

Lena looked back to Sir Michael, her voice quiet. “I…the PETRAS Act made any activity by Overwatch – or its agents – illegal.”

That got another one of those dry chuckles. “Let us just say, Flight Lieutenant Oxton, that the UN has their opinion on the need for Overwatch, and His Majesty’s government feels otherwise.”

_That could mean a LOT of things._

Lena straightened up, putting her hands on the arms of her chair. “So…what are you offering, then?”

Sir Michael leaned forward with a smile. “We’re offering you a _job._ ”


	10. Chapter 10

Lena stared at Sir Michael, not quite believing her ears. “You want…what?”

The bureaucrat leaned back with a little shrug. “Not much more than what you have already done, really. Keep an eye out for trouble. Get involved if you see the need. Now and then…” He paused, considering how to put things. “The Foreign Office may potentially have some suggestions on where you might look into things, and some support we can offer you towards those ends.”

Emily raised an eyebrow. “You want Lena to become a spy?”

“More of a roving troubleshooter,” Sir Michael explained, “intelligence gathering is never a bad thing, in that position, but not the primary goal.”

Lena considered that. “So…save the world, kill the baddies, and get home to the girl? Do I get a double ‘O’ number?”

“Nothing so dramatic,” Sir Michael demurred, “but you might say that you would have a license to operate. The Metropolitan police and relevant agencies will be informed to keep your activities off the official books, and that we will not be complying with any requests to enforce the PETRAS Act, since our representative on the security council voted against the measure and lodged an official petition against participating.”

Lena nodded thoughtfully. “So…do I have office hours? How would I get those ‘suggestions’ you mentioned?” She paused, then gave Emily a sheepish look. “Not to sound ungrateful, but would I get _paid_ …?”

“As it happens,” Sir Michael replied with a little smile, “I have been authorized to offer you what you might call a retainer - paid monthly, plus an honorarium for exceptional services rendered to the Crown and Commonwealth - with additional potential for future awards in appreciation of future services.” Reaching for a pen, he wrote out a series of numbers on his desk blotter, tore off the paper, and slid it across the desk.

Lena was glad she wasn’t drinking anything when she saw those figures or she’d probably have spat it all over the immaculate desk.

Emily leaned over and her eyebrows rose almost to her hairline. “Those…are very generous terms.”

“Your wife has a unique talent, and His Majesty’s Government recognizes that she works in a rather dangerous profession. We feel the compensation should be appropriate in the face of that.” Sir Michael folded his hands. “Of course the RAF will continue to provide each of you with your appropriate pensions as well, so as not to arouse any undue suspicions.”

Lena bit her lip until the cut they’d tended earlier split again, the taste of copper bringing her back from where she’d become lost in thought.

“I…this is incredible, really it is, but…I need a little time to talk to my wife about this, please.”

Sir Michael smiled. “Of course, I wouldn't expect otherwise. Please, keep my card. My driver will be happy to take you back to your hotel, and you can let me know your decision once you’re ready.”

* * *

They waited until they’d taken the elevator back to the hotel room before discussing anything more serious than how pretty the Rolls was and how nice the weather was. Not that they didn’t trust Sir Michael or his discretion, but…well. They’d want this to be a truly private conversation.

Emily went to the bed and flopped down, staring up at the hotel ceiling. “Well.”

Lena nodded as she unbuckled the accelerator and left it on the table before joining her. “Yeah, that just happened.”

Their hands joined and Emily gave Lena’s fingers a firm squeeze. “How’re you feeling, love?”

“Aside from, ‘holy fuck that is a _lot_ of money’?” Lena shook her head. “I mean, I love a good Bond flick –”

“Or a bad one.”

Lena snorted. “Yeah, OK, but…still. Not exactly how I ever saw myself. I mean, going from being a hero to a…not exactly spy?”

Emily nodded. “He did tell you that generally you could just keep doing…well. Whatever you like, really. Just with a little extra work on the King’s shilling here and there.”

“Not so different from being in the Reserves when you put it that way,” Lena admitted, “and the fact that they’d…well. Not exactly _block_ the UN, but run interference, at least.”

“Mm. True enough.” Emily rolled onto her side, reaching out to caress her wife’s cheek. “So what else is going on in there, Flight Lieutenant Oxton?”

“I don’t know, Em.” Lena sighed. “I want…I want to say yes. It’s a chance to keep doing what I can, and god knows that money would make our lives easier.”

Emily raised an eyebrow. “But…?”

Lena made a frustrated noise. “I am so tired of _hiding_. Hiding I liked girls, hiding that we were married, hiding from the bloody UN goons…I haven’t even rung Winston in, what, a _month_ _?_ Because ‘minimal contact.’ Fucking _wankers_ …”

“Is that what you think this would be?” Emily frowned thoughtfully. “I mean, with what they’re offering…it seems to me that you’d have the chance to be, well…as much in the open as you like, as Lena Oxton or as Tracer. Both, really.”

“Yeah, it seems like, but…I don’t know, luv. You know what they say, if it looks too good to be true…”

Emily leaned over to gently kiss the frown lines from Lena’s forehead. “I know. But on the other hand…well. The impossible tends to be the _easy_ part for you, most of the time.”

Lena laughed softly. “Mm. It’s funny, you know, when I was talking to Fareeha I told her how much it meant to me to still be able to make a difference, after you brought me home. How it was one of the things that made it easier for me. Now we’re sitting here and I feel like I’m getting that chance again…”

“When you put it that way,” Emily observed, “it doesn’t feel like a very hard choice at all.”

Lena reached up to gently pull her wife down to her. “No…it doesn’t. Are you OK with this?”

Emily slid her hands down until they rested against Lena’s hips. “If I wasn’t, I would tell you.” She leaned in, kissing her tenderly. “You’re going to want to help people. You’re _always_ going to want to help people, and I wouldn’t ever want you to change. This way…well. If you’re going to get stuck in anyway, you might as well get paid for it.”

Lena snorted. “Not getting arrested is also pretty good.”

“Mmm,” Emily agreed, “there is that.”

“Well.” Lena closed her eyes and took a deep breath, “I guess that’s decision made. But I have to ask you the same thing, Chief Arrington - what’s going on in _your_ head?”

Emily thought about that for a moment. “…I want to open that shop, honestly. I want to get my hands dirty again. I miss working on things – it’s been months. Past that, I want to…” She trailed off, her eyes going a bit distant. “I want to be there for you, always. But I also want to be able to give you a little bit of _normal_ , you know? Having a place of our own. Something safe and solid, and if all else fails, it’s there for us.”

Lena kissed her gently. “Then you should, and I’ll help out as I can.” She grinned. “Maybe you can even teach me how to ride a motorbike while we’re at it. I mean, that’s a good thing for a secret agent to know, right?”

Emily laughed softly. “Could be fun…so does that mean I get to start calling you Double Oh Tracer?”

Lena winked. “I dunno, luv. How do you feel about being Moneypenny?”

Despite the serious nature of the earlier conversation, that got them both laughing, and before long that turned to something else as well.

* * *

The next morning, Lena dressed up as much as she could, what with living out of suitcases. Button up shirt, trousers, a half decent attempt at taming and combing her hair with a bit of gel before she sat on the bed, swinging her feet back and forth while she turned Sir Michael’s card over in her hands.

She’d spent a little time looking up Sir Michael through the internet while she’d eaten breakfast, and everything she’d found had been encouraging. His wife sat on the board of a few charities - including some pro-Omnic efforts. His reputation seemed to be for a straight shooter, who was recognized as a dedicated and loyal civil servant. A man that could be trusted - and so could his offer, it seemed like.

She still felt a bit of nerves, as much as they’d talked things over, she hesitated for a long moment before reached for her phone and punched in the number, Emily coming over to sit down with her.

After two short rings, a woman’s voice came on the line:

– _Sir Michael Wood’s office._

Lena took a deep breath. “This is Lena Oxton. I met with Sir Michael yesterday.”

The woman’s voice warmed immediately.

_-_ _Oh, yes, good morning! One moment please while I put you through._

There was a brief snippet of marching band music – _The Liberty Bell,_  she realized with a smile – before Sir Michael’s dry tones came over the line.

_\- Good morning, Flight Lieutenant. I take it you’ve made a decision?_

Lena put her free hand in Emily’s, getting a reassuring squeeze. “I have, Sir Michael, and I’ve decided to accept your offer.”

_\- Excellent news! I’ll have a car sent around for you, then. You can expect them in around twenty minutes._

“Right, then. Thank you sir, I’ll be waiting for them.”

- _Be seeing you._

The line went dead, and Lena slipped the phone back into her pocket. “Car’s coming for me. Guess I’m off to work.”

Emily leaned in and kissed her, running a hand lightly over her back. “Try not to save the world on your first day, all right? It sets an unreasonable expectation. I’m going to spend a little time looking into more shop spaces and maybe call a couple of the flats you circled.”

Lena smiled. _A little bit of normal. Right._ “I guess we’ll see – but no promises, luv.”

Emily snorted as she stood, offering a hand to help Lena to her feet. “Fine. Off you go, then.”

Lena buckled herself into the accelerator, then stole one last kiss on her way out to the lobby.

* * *

Instead of the Rolls that Sir Michael had used to bring them to Whitehall yesterday, the car that came to pick Lena up from the hotel was a black on black Land Rover that practically screamed “Government Spy Car.”

The driver was a black suited brick with the requisite dark shades who nodded to her as she climbed into the back seat, but didn’t really make much conversation as he drove her out to Vauxhall Cross.

To her surprise, when she was lead out of the underground garage and into a small conference room, Sir Michael was there waiting.

“Good morning, Flight Lieutenant.”

Lena straightened up to something like attention. (She wasn’t supposed to salute him, was she?) “Sir. So, where do we start?”

“Today will mostly be paperwork for you, but I thought you might appreciate having a bit of your property returned to you, first.” The bureaucrat turned to the man who had lead her into the conference room and gave him a nod that was clearly meant as a dismissal. “Thank you, Parker, that will be all for now.”

Sir Michael ushered her out, leading her down a long hallway, and Lena followed, her brows knitting with confusion. “…my property?”

“Mm. You’ll understand in a moment, I believe.”

After three turns down seemingly identical corridors, they came to a heavy looking door marked **ARMORY SECTION – NO ADMITTANCE**. Sir Michael produced a code card from his suit pocket and swiped it along the reader, the door opening with a cheerful beep. “After you, please.”

Lena nodded and went inside, then gasped as she realized what was waiting for her, sitting atop an equipment cart in a black padded Anvil case.

The vambraces looked brand new, not scuffed or worn as she would swear they had when she’d put them into her locker after what had turned out to be her last Overwatch mission.

Her pistols sat next to them, the power cells glowing with faint blue radiance as they responded to the Accelerator’s presence.

The bandolier of pulse bombs, ready to be charged if needed – her personal last resort. That one was absolutely hers, not some reproduction or duplicate – there was the gouge in the belt buckle that she’d made tossing it into the locker a little too hard, after a particularly frustrating op.

She turned to where Sir Michael had walked up behind her. “This…all of this… _how?_ ”

“Under the terms of the PETRAS Act,” the bureaucrat explained, “all Overwatch facilities reverted to the ownership of the nation which provided the land and materiel for them. That meant that Watchpoint: Gibraltar – and its contents – became property of the Crown.”

Lena blinked. “…wait, so…Winston?”

Sir Michael gave a narrow smile. “Let’s just say we’re aware that the Watchpoint has a tenant, and we appreciate that he is keeping the facility secure. When the Foreign Office representative who visited him explained that we were retrieving your equipment so you could put it to good use again, he was quite happy to help.”

Lena couldn’t help tearing up just a little with a smile. _Thanks, Big Guy._

“Because of his…hm…unusual origins, and the statutes of the Lunar Treaty, I’m afraid we cannot extend him all of the protections we were able to offer you, since he is not a Subject of the Crown or able to claim U.K. citizenship, but we’ll be doing our best to make sure he isn’t disturbed.”

Lena nodded. “I appreciate that – thank you.”

“No trouble at all,” Sir Michael chuckled, “after all, what would we even _do_ with the place?” Raising a hand, he gestured to the case. “For now, if you’d like to collect that, I’ll take you upstairs and I’m afraid you’ll have several hours of paperwork to look forward to.”

Lena nodded, closing up and latching the case before taking it up to follow Sir Michael out. All her kit and the slab sided case made for a bit of a heavy package, but at that particular moment, it felt light as a feather.

* * *

Emily grumbled as she hung up the phone. The problem with trying to find an affordable flat in London – or an affordable space for a business, for that matter – was that _everyone_ wanted one. All four of the flats Lena had planned to call back had already been let, and she hadn’t gotten much further with some of the mixed use spaces she’d looked at.

“Of course…” she paused, then looked at the piece of paper from Sir Michael’s office that sat on the hotel room’s desk. “Maybe looking at shops and flats to _let_ is half the problem.”

After all, they _did_ have some money coming in. Kind of a lot of money, in fact…

_Maybe there’s a way to solve both our problems at once._

Emily grabbed her tablet and started to look for buildings for sale. With London prices being what they were, they’d probably be limited to some pretty specific areas, but that just meant it narrowed down the search for her, didn’t it?

“Probably ought to ring a realtor, but on the other hand, how much do I want to explain…?”

She snorted as she imagined that conversation. “We’ve got some specific needs – I’m going to be running a motorbike garage, and my wife is a secret agent that travels in time. Also I’d like a halfway decent kitchen and a bay window.”

No, best to get her own legwork done, and bring in a professional once they had a good plan and the money in hand.

She started setting up search criteria. This ought to be interesting, at least…


	11. Chapter 11

“This was actually one of the first lorry dealers in London back in the day,” the realtor showing them around explained as she lead Emily and Lena into a rough looking room with an old epoxy floor and bare concrete walls, “there’s actually a ramp in the next room that leads to the basement – I understand that’s where they kept the stock.”

Emily looked around, trying to imagine the space filled with tools, counters, shelves, and the like. “That might be useful. Can it be accessed from outside?”

“No,” the realtor shook her head, “so it's of no use as a car park. The big rolling door can still be opened onto the main part of the ground floor here, though, so there’s access to bring things in and out, but you wouldn’t want people to come in and out all day, I’m sure.”

Lena whistled as she paced around the room. “That'd be pretty useful for storing customer bikes and parts, then.”

Emily nodded thoughtfully. “I was just thinking that. What used to be in this space besides that?”

“The last tenant was a brewery." The realtor gave a dismissive snort and toss of her head. "How they went out of business selling beer in London I will never know.”

“Mm.” Emily walked to the ramp – not too steeply graded, though the ceiling was a bit low – no surprise in a building this old. She tried to imagine pushing bikes up and down, or carrying parts on a dolly. It might be a chore with something like a big touring bike, but not that bad…

Lena looked around. “Well, what do you think, Em?”

“There’s a lot of potential,” the mechanic admitted, “and a lot of work to do, too.”

The realtor gave a sympathetic look. “For a building of its age this is in fairly good nick, but in the price range you specified, that will be true of almost any property.”

“Right,” Emily nodded in understanding as she walked the floor, putting a hand to a steel shuttered window, “what about the flats upstairs?”

“Four units,” the realtor answered, “but all vacant. The owner knew he wanted to sell the property so he requested the tenants move out as their leases ended. You could easily live in one and rent the other three for an additional income stream.”

Lena raised an eyebrow – _do we want to do that?_

Emily met her eye with a little shrug. _Every little bit helps._

Lena shrugged back, acknowledging the point, and then turned back to the realtor. “Do you mind if we get a look at them?”

“Absolutely, that’s the whole point. Silly to buy a building and not know what’s inside…”

* * *

 

Sitting on the bed back at the hotel, Lena flipped through the pictures Emily had taken on her phone. “Kitchen’s a bit small in all of the flats.”

“Mm, I know,” Emily agreed, “but the space on the first floor is just about perfect, isn’t it?”

“Absolutely, yeah. The ramp to the basement is neat, and you’ve got all that shelf space pretty much ready to go!” Lena put the tablet down on the bedside table. “So…you feel good about it?”

Emily considered it for a moment, then nodded. “I do, yeah. The flat’s a compromise, but maybe we can remodel.”

Lena nodded thoughtfully. “Speaking of…if we own the building, long as we keep it quiet we can do whatever with it, right?”

Emily’s eyebrow raised. “Got something in mind for a secret lair, Double Oh Tracer?”

Lena smiled as she ran her fingers through her wife’s hair, the redhead curling in against her. “Well, not exactly. I was thinking if I rung up Winston – you know how those emitters and whatnot work, right?”

“Mm, basics anyway. Between helping with miniaturization and the accelerator I got a good course on how to maintain them.” She looked up with a raised eyebrow. “Thinking of getting a spare?”

“That’s not such a bad idea,” Lena admitted, “but what I had in mind was to see if we could put some of those widgets in the walls or something. Not have to keep the kit on or carry it with every time I moved to another room. How tough would it be?”

Emily straightened up, her eyes growing thoughtful. “Oh…oh, yes, that’s something we could do. We just never tried it back at the flat in Gibraltar because I didn't want to deal with the landlord. I suspect they wouldn't have been terribly excited about us chopping up the walls.”

That got a grin. “Well…long as our offer gets accepted, seems to me that you’ll be the landlord, yeah?”

“Mmm. Well, I suppose it would be a major improvement to the life and comfort of my tenant…” Emily grinned. “Besides, even if it’s my name on the papers, you _are_ putting up the money.”

Lena smiled. “There you are, then. Maybe you could even get a tax credit – after all it’s equipment for the disabled.”

Emily snorted as she settled back on the bed. “I’d love to see the paperwork for _that_. But we’ll see…first thing is getting the building, and from there, well…”

Lena nodded. “So what do you think you’ll call the shop?”

Sighing, Emily shook her head. “Speaking of getting ahead of ourselves…”

Lena leaned in to kiss her wife’s forehead. “Come on, you said the building’s been up for, what, better part of a year?”

Emily hummed thoughtfully. “Not a lot of people interested in a building that close to the Underground, it seems. Bloody idiots.”  

“There you are, then. I bet the owner’ll be chuffed to _get_ someone wanting to take it off his hands.”  Lena settled in next to her, her and settling over the redhead’s waist. “So c’mon, out with it…”

Emily paused. “You’re going to laugh at me…”

Lena grinned. “Yeah?”

The normally collected mechanic actually was actually _flustered_ , and Lena’s eyes lit with delight. “I…I kept thinking about it and, well, a lot of shop names are just _boring_. ‘E  & L garage’, or something like ‘West London Mechanicals’ or that kind of thing.”

Lena made an encouraging noise. “A & O garage might be nice – go with our last names.”

“Only for being on top of the listings,” Emily disagreed, “and I wanted to stand out.”

“Sooo….” Lena leaned in, filled with curiosity now. “Go on…”

“Well, I mean,” Emily smiled shyly, “we met in the RAF, and now you have…well. Your _things_ , you know, and I always want you to be part of this no matter what you end up doing…”

Lena raised an eyebrow, letting Emily talk herself into a corner.

Sighing, Emily finally buried her face in Lena’s shoulder before going on. “I thought we could call it _Temporal Mechanics._ ”

Emily had clearly expected a groan or a laugh. What she got instead was a soft little sound before her wife was hugging her and kissing the top of her head.

“I love it.”

* * *

  _-So how’s the new job?_

“Oh,” Lena chuckled as she sat in what would be the living room of their apartment, once they got things like rugs and actual furniture, “pretty good, actually! Flexible hours, which is really helpful. I got to take this whole week off to handle moving and being around while the equipment Emily ordered starts to come in.”

_-Sounds nice._

Lena nodded, looking out the window to where she could see an electrician’s van parking in front of what would be the garage’s front door. “So how about yours – did you end up taking that offer you called me about, Fareeha?”

 _-I did, yes._ Fareeha’s voice had an undercurrent of pride for her decision. _The training…well. I can’t talk about much, but it’s been demanding in a very good way. Interesting. I’m looking forward to putting it all into practice._

“It’s funny, you know – I got this job offer not too long after yours and I ended up thinking about the same things we talked about. Had to listen to myself, I suppose.”

_-So what are you doing, exactly…?_

Lena grinned even though Fareeha couldn’t see her. “Oh, you might call it a civil service position.”

- _…Interesting._

“Nothing bad! Just kind of an odds and sods sort of thing. But I'll mostly just go into the office a few days a week while Em gets things going here, and most of the time I’m on the tube and home by five.”

_-When you put it that way, it sounds very…domestic._

“Something like that,” Lena agreed, “but it’s nice, you know? Pride’s next month and we’re gonna go. First time we’ve…” A thought struck her and she couldn’t help but laugh. “I was about to say it’s the first time we’ve been out together for it, but it’s _true_ , yeah?”

- _I can see why that’s a big deal when you put it like that. I wish you both the best, Lena._

“Thanks, luv. You too – don’t be a stranger, all right?”

- _I won’t, I promise. I don’t know if I’ll be able to visit before I get my first assignment, but if the chance comes through I’ll give you a call._

“Brilliant. Cheers!”

Hanging up the phone after Fareeha wished her a goodbye, Lena pulled the accelerator back on and took the stairs down to the ground floor, where Emily was discussing something with the electrician, gesturing towards the basement ramp.

“– make sure the fuses won’t blow when we hook the machine tools and welding rig up,”

The electrician nodded, tugging at his cap. “No trouble – the wiring’s been redone in the last few years and the panel replaced. May want to add on to that, with the power draw you’re looking at, but nothing we can’t get sorted.”

Emily smiled. “Wonderful. Come find me when you’ve got the estimate, then.”

“Right-o…” The electrician disappeared down the ramp, and Lena crossed the floor to collect a kiss.

“Things going well, luv?”

Emily nodded. “Quite, actually,” Grinning, she gestured to the ramp. “Once we have the power sorted I can get the heavy tools in – and more importantly, we’ve hired our first employee.”

Lena blinked. “That was fast.”

Emily grinned before raising her voice. “George? Come out here a minute?”

“One moment,” a distinctly flanged voice called back from what would (eventually) be the wheels and tyres portion of the shop, “I’ll be right there.”

To Lena’s surprise, an Omnic came out from the back – the very same omnic who she’d stepped in to help, the day that she’d taken on those two goons and (eventually) fallen into her new line of work.

“Yes, boss? What did you – oh!” The omnic’s optics flickered in a blink of surprise as he took in Lena, the accelerator, and her position beside Emily. “Hullo, miss.”

Emily gestured to the omnic – George, apparently. “George here was curious about who was opening up shop, and we got to talking.” She smiled. “George, meet the missus - my wife Lena. She’ll be living upstairs with me – might pop in to help here and there when she isn’t off on her own jobs.”

George extended a hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Lena. I didn’t get a chance to thank you properly the other day.” His sensors dimmed and his head tilted slightly in a way that Lena read as slight embarrassment. “Too busy running for my life, if I’m honest.”

Grinning, Lena offered a warm handshake. “If it makes you feel better, I was doing the same once the Plod showed up.”

Emily blinked as she looked between them. “You’re kidding – the same one – really?”

“Funny old world,” George observed, “isn’t it?”

Lena shook her head. “You’ve _no idea_. So you like bikes, then?”

The omnic’s shoulders lifted in a shrug. “I was originally a construction unit. I’ve got advanced welding and fabrication modules still. But it’s not easy to find much work outside of the Underground, and…well.” His optics dimmed. “You saw. That’s why someone opening up this old place was such a surprise. I don’t know so much about motorbikes, but I like having work to do, and I’m certainly capable of learning.”

Lena grinned. “Oh, good, so I won’t be the only one with no idea what they’re doing.”

George’s optics brightened and his stance shifted in a way that clearly communicated amusement. “Well. Not all the time, at least.”

That got all of them laughing, and once that was done Lena pitched in with getting a few more of the new shelves up while Emily went to negotiate with the electrician on just how much of a bite he was allowed to take from their budget.

* * *

Lena watched as Emily and George carefully installed the field emitters Winston had sent into the ceiling of their flat, holding up her phone so that the scientist could watch from back at Gibraltar.

“So how much effective range will this give me?”

_-Well, I wouldn’t recommend trying to leave the building without having the accelerator on, but as long as the grid has been energized properly, you’ll be able to move throughout the building without it._

Lena whistled. “That’s...wow, big guy. You’ve done some work, haven’t you?”

- _I still have a goal of making an accelerator for you that will be a lot less...hm. Conspicuous, I suppose. Maybe not one that would be combat rated, but to help with giving you something a bit easier to live day to day. The main issue is keeping the field stability intact. Fortunately, with a building, we can spread that across multiple redundant nodes through the structure, so it makes things a bit simpler - not to mention that the building doesn’t need to_ move _._

“I appreciate it, Winston.” Lena blushed. “All of it - including You Know What. It means a lot to me that you’re still keeping on.”

- _I still believe in what Overwatch was supposed to be. Besides, if nothing else, it’s a fascinating technical challenge!_ _Speaking of which, I have some firmware updates to send you for your current accelerator. Emily can install them once you get my email - you’ll want to have them in place before we power up the building’s array._

“Right, I’ll pass that along.”

* * *

Lena looked down at her chest as Emily tapped at her tablet, an adapter cable running from the handheld device into the accelerator’s maintenance port.  

“So,” she asked, “why did we need to do this update before we try turning up the building?”

Emily looked up from her tablet. “Remember how the first time we tried the portable rig, it gave you that sensation of being tugged in two directions at once?”

Lena winced. “Hard to forget. That’s the one part of having the place fixed up I haven’t been looking forward to.”

Emily nodded. “Well, if I’m reading this right, you won’t have anything to worry about. It looks like Winston’s set up a way for this” - she tapped at the top of the accelerator’s fairing - “to detect if it’s inside a larger field and basically go into a sleep mode, and then automatically fire back up when it detects that you’re about to breach the perimeter.”

“So no getting zapped back into the middle of the flat if I run out to get the mail?” Lena shook her head in mock resignation. “Shame! I was thinking that’d save me a whole lot of running up and down stairs.”

Emily rolled her eyes. “Sorry, darling, I’m afraid that’s your cross to bear.”

The tablet made a cheerful sounding beep, and the mechanic popped the cable free, then closed the panel. “All set!”

Lena nodded as she checked her watch. “Right, just in time. My cab will be around in a few minutes.” Looking around, she sighed. “Ought to get a car soon.”

Emily chuckled. “Once I finish fitting out downstairs and get some parts inventory in, we’ll be done with the starting out costs. Should be able to afford something half decent after that.”

Lena smiled. “Or maybe I could buy a right clunker and hand it over so you have something to do.”

Emily’s eyes danced as she crossed her arms over her chest. “I think you just want to see me with my hair up and my arms half covered in grease.”

“I’ll never tell,” Lena winked, then kissed the redhead on her cheek on her way to the door, “back soon.”

“See you, love. I’m going to ring Winston while you’re out, see if we can get the emitter grid going.”

* * *

“Sitting comfortably?”

Lena nodded as she settled against the overstuffed chair. “Right as rain.”

“Good, good.”

Lena had been nervous about taking advantage of some of the resources she’d been offered, but after so many suggestions she see a mental health professional, she also knew it was well past time.

Dr. Sigorini (or as he preferred, Angelo) was a good one, she’d found. He was barely taller than she was, with a reedy tenor voice and thick horn rimmed glasses that made him look a bit owlish, but he had a calming air and a friendly smile, and she’d learned he tended to treat their sessions as _conversations_ rather than appointments, which had gone a long way to making her more comfortable.

“How are things in your new place?”

Lena smiled. “Coming along really well. Would you believe Em’s shop isn’t even open yet and she’s already found a helper?”

The therapist raised an eyebrow with amusement. “Aside from you?”

“Heh. Yeah, seriously though. Nice guy, name of George, lives nearby in the Underground.” She shook her head at the coincidence. “Same bloke I helped out when I broke up a mugging, same day as I got the new job.”

“It’s funny how those things work out, sometimes.” Angelo leaned back in his hair, sipping at a glass of water. “So, how many clocks have you put up so far?”

She couldn’t help but wince. “Five. Two in the bedroom, one in the bath, kitchen, living room, and the foyer.”

“Mm. Why two in the bedroom?”

“Well, I wanted a bedside clock for an alarm, but if Em sleeps on that side of the bed I can’t see it without sitting up.” Lena sighed. “I know that sounds silly but I...there’s days I can’t handle that. So I put another up on the wall by the dresser. I can see it no matter what.”

“That’s not silly,” Angelo gently corrected, “it’s a response to what you’ve experienced. You’re allowed to have those reactions, Lena.”

Lena nodded slowly. “I...yeah. I’m just used to…”

Angelo raised an eyebrow as she trailed off, but let her find a way to explain things rather than interrupt.

“Especially once they started sticking me in front of the cameras, I needed to be the nice one, you know? Laugh things off, have a smile. Make it look good.” She shrugged. “Tracer’s a hero, who ever heard of a hero getting panicked because she doesn’t know what time it is?”

“I’ve heard of a few,” Angelo offered, “and more importantly the one who is sitting across from me right now shouldn’t feel ashamed of talking about what she needs to feel comfortable. Especially when it comes to her own home.”

Lena smiled hesitantly. “When you put it like that, yeah...that’s true. I do. It helps, you know?”

“You’ve been through some very unique experiences,” the therapist admitted, “but there are a lot of patients who have experienced similar symptoms.” He took a sip of his water, then leaned forward. “Which is why I’d like to suggest some similar methods of treatment.”

Lena found herself leaning in as well, matching his interest. “OK, such as…?”

Angelo smiled back at her. “Art therapy is usually very helpful for re-grounding after dissociative episodes.”

“What, like coloring books?”

The therapist shrugged. “If that’s a good outlet for you, but any kind of creative activity that makes you feel relaxed and accomplished is a good start for a grounding technique. I like to brew beer at home.”

Lena raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Mmhmm. I started a Belgian grand cru last weekend - should be ready to try in a few weeks.”

“So you’re saying that you…”

“Well,” Angelo raised a hand, his eyes twinkling, “everyone is different, but you’d be amazed how many people go into this line of work because it helps us figure out our _own_ diagnosis.”

Lena couldn’t help but laugh. “Takes one to know one?”

Angelo grinned. “Something like that.”

Lena sat back in the chair. “I’ll think about that. Maybe try a few things and see what feels good.”

“That’s a wonderful way to get started,” the therapist agreed, “next time you come in, let me know how that’s going.”

Lena nodded, tapping her hand against her thigh. “So if that’s one option, do you have others?”

“I think that as we work through some things, there’s a technique called Eye Movement Desensitization Reprocessing that might be worth trying, but I want to take a little time before we start working with it.”

“All right,” Lena agreed, “you’re the expert.”

Angelo grinned. “Sometime I’ll have to ask you to tell that to my wife.”

Lena giggled. “We’ll see. So, how was _your_ week?”

“Well, aside from the beer, I got some new tyres for my bicycle…”


	12. Chapter 12

Tracer lashed out with one leg, connecting with an explosive grunt of air from the robber, making him drop the heavy sack of money he’d been holding.

“Honestly,” she wondered aloud as the other two who had helped to break into the vault came out with shocked expressions beneath their balaclavas, “who robs a bank in broad daylight on a Sunday morning? Really!”

Snapping her pistols up with a flick of her wrists, her eyes narrowed beneath her goggles. “Don’t suppose you’d like to make things easy and just drop the bags and put your hands up?”

One of the robbers actually _did_ , which was nice, but his friend slapped him across the back of the head with his free hand before charging towards the bank’s front door. “C’mon, you idiot, _leg it!”_

Lena sighed. “Right, ’course not.” Blinking forward into the runner’s path, she swung her pistol around and clipped him on the side of the head, dropping him to the polished lobby floor with a grunt.

“So, let’s try that again,” she said cheerfully as she grabbed the bag of money off the floor, “I’ll just put these back where they belong, and you lads take a breather. Cops’ll be along in a mo’.”

Blinking back around the bank lobby to collect the rest of the cash, she returned the bags to shelves in the vault, then made her way out of the back before getting up to the rooftops, watching the flashing blue lights as the police vehicles arrived, blue-suited officers swarming into take possession of the scene – and the hapless robbers.

“Right.” She dusted off her hands and smiled as she watched the first of the robbers get led out in cuffs. “Job well done, then!”

It took a few minutes to get back to where she’d parked and put the pistols, goggles, and rather distinctive jacket back into the boot of her Jag. The old shooting brake had given Emily fits when they’d gone to look at it, but after a bit of work and some fresh paint, the old XF was a fantastic daily driver – particularly since they’d replaced the old compartment for the spare under the boot’s false bottom with storage for her Tracer gear.

“OK,” Lena noted to herself as the engine rumbled to life, “baddies sorted, shopping next.”

By the time she’d made it back to the flat, Emily was watching footage of the attempted robbery as captured by the bank’s cameras on the news.

_–foiled by the former member of Overwatch only known as ‘Tracer’, who has been seen operating in London as a vigilante crime fighter for the past eight months. Representatives of the Metropolitan Police and National Crime Agency have refused to comment on her activities, but opinion polls have been increasingly in favor of her actions even as representatives of the UN have called upon His Majesty’s Government to investigate possible violations of the PETRAS Act…_

Emily turned to see her coming in and shut off the TV before waving to the darkened screen. “Every time I send you out for milk and eggs, I swear…”

Lena giggled, holding up the shopping bag in her left hand. “At least I stopped at Sainsbury’s on the way back this time!”

“So you did,” Emily agreed as she came over to take the bag, collecting a kiss as payment for the groceries, “still feel like omelettes this morning?”

“Sounds fantastic, yeah. Let me get the rest of the kit put away and hang the accelerator up, too.”

Just another lazy Sunday for them both.

* * *

The faint sound of pen on paper filled Lena’s ears as she sat on the couch. After trying four or five different methods for her “grounding therapy,” she’d settled on drawing as the one that gave her the most satisfaction.

She’d set aside a half an hour each day, usually in the afternoons, and just let her mind wander, sketching whatever came to mind. On good days it left her feeling relaxed and proud of what she’d put together. On bad days, it helped to pull her out of feeling a bit disconnected from it all – another little reminder of being home, of being _here_ and _now._

She wasn’t great at faces, but she’d occasionally drawn portraits of Emily, George, Winston, and other friends she’d made during her time in the RAF, Overwatch, and since their return to London. Bodies weren’t so bad, and she’d found herself occasionally even drawing herself – or, rather, drawing _Tracer_ – using shapes and occasionally adding colors to her accelerator or leggings to make them stand out, often keeping her face in shadow except for the colored lens and white  casing of her goggles.

She’d sketched out a little pulse bomb earlier, but now she was focusing on the aggressively forward swept wings of the _Slipstream_ airframe, connecting them to the fuselage before moving into the body to define the cockpit, engine inlets, and the leading edges of the tail fins.

“You really were beautiful,” she murmured to the sketch, “I think I’ll always be a little sad that we never got to see just what we could do together.”

The drawing couldn’t answer, but she felt a little knot of something inside of her unwind as she finished the trailing edges of the wings and defined the thrust-vectoring nozzles.

It was still part of her, of course – it always would be – but it was nice to look at the drawing and think about how much she’d enjoyed the experience of flying the fighter, not the painful memories of being adrift afterwards.

When she’d finished adding color to the drawing and a few swooping lines and trails to suggest how it had screamed so effortlessly through the sky in her hands, Lena put a little asterisk at the top of the page. She’d show this one to Angelo at their next session. Maybe talk a bit more about flying.

When she looked up at the clock in the living room, she had worked through the normal time she set aside for today…but she didn’t have anything else to do today, and Em would be downstairs for a few more hours.

She flipped to the next fresh page in the pad, and tapped her pen against the page for a moment before she started on something new.

* * *

Emily sat in the waiting area at the Driver and Vehicle Agency with her phone in her hand, flipping through some adverts.

Lena was almost floating as she came through the door from the examination section, dressed in sturdy pants and boots, her Shearing jacket, and the helmet Emily had picked up for her birthday in one hand. “Sorry to keep you waiting! The line was _endless!_ ”

Emily smiled as she slipped her phone back in her pocket and stood up. “No trouble, love.” She had a feeling how things had gone, but decided to play it cagey. “So, how was your exam?”

Lena drew herself up for that (vitally important) extra half-inch or so of height. “Well, the written was pretty easy, and the demonstration portion was honestly a bit boring after doing the safety courses and practicing with the loaner bike they provided for the learner’s permit.”

Emily raised an eyebrow. “And…?”

Lena reached into the map pocket sewn onto the inside of her jacket, then pulled out her new driver’s license – featuring the Class A motorbike authorization. “Passed with flying colors, of course!”

Emily grinned, then leaned in for a quick kiss. “Congratulations! Now we’ll just need to figure out getting you a bike of your own.”

Lena nodded, then gave a little look that immediately set off Emily’s ‘your wife is up to something’ alarm bells. “Have you thought much about what you want to pick up for yourself?”

“Not much,” Emily admitted, “but you never know – if a customer drops off something that catches my eye I can always look into picking up something similar. Or if someone has me start work and then decides it’ll be too expensive to finish the job, I could take it off their hands as a project for myself. I think that’s how my Uncle got half of his collection.”

“Mm. Well, if you do see anything…” Lena smiled. “I mean, Christmas is coming up.”

Emily gave her a sidelong look. “Lena, it’s _April_.”

“Eight months counts as coming up!”

“Oh, it does not.” Emily shook her head with a smile as her wife stuck out her tongue in response. “C’mon, you. We’ll go have lunch to celebrate before heading home.”

“Oh, if you _insist_ , luv.”

* * *

Lena had enjoyed lunch after passing her exam, but after clandestinely checking her phone on the way to the loo, she was almost giddy with excitement as they drove back to the shop.

Emily gave her a sidelong look as she came around the last corner before their building, and Lena suddenly wished she’d kept the full face helmet on from her ride on the loaner bike she’d used for the exam. “Lena. I know that grin.”

Lena could feel her cheeks heating under that scrutiny. “I can’t be happy to be out with my best girl?

“Oh,” Emily raised an eyebrow, her tone making it clear she knew something was up, “you can. But I’m pretty certain there's more to it.”

“Well…” Lena gave a little shrug. “Anniversary’s coming up too. A lot closer than eight months…”

Emily smiled as she turned her attention back to the road. “Six weeks is a bit closer, at least. Something tells me you didn’t just stick to paper, though.”

Lena smiled back as she brought them into the car park. “I guess you’ll just have to come and see, luv.”

Her wife sighed as she unbuckled herself, but she was grinning as she shook her head. “You’re ridiculous, Flight Lieutenant Oxton.”

Lena laughed as she popped out of the car. “And you married me anyway, Chief Technician Arrington. How silly is that?”

“I even _asked_ you,” Emily deadpanned, “it's absolutely inexplicable.”

The shop’s heavy rolling door was open, and George was standing in the middle of the workshop floor, using a pry bar to open a heavy shipping crate.

As they came into the workshop, the omnic turned and set the tool down so he could wave to them. “Welcome back, boss and missus!” Inclining his head towards Lena, he tilted his body slightly as his tone became inquisitive. “So, are congratulations in order…?”

Lena stuck out her tongue. “Nobody has any faith in me today.”

The omnic chuckled as he picked the bar back up. “I suppose that means you passed, then.”

“Believe it or not,” Emily confirmed, “now she's able to terrorize London on two wheels just as easily as four.” Ignoring her wife’s indignant squawk, she walked up to the crate. “So what's all this, then?”

“Just a mo’,” George answered, “while I finish cracking it open. But I believe the word I’m _supposed_ to use is a ‘surprise.’”

Emily turned back to Lena with a satisfied ‘caught you!’ expression on her face. “Is it, now…?”

Lena rubbed the back of her head bashfully. “Well, I was looking around online for a bike for _me_ , to see if I found something I liked, and there was this auction, and I remembered something you’d said back when we first talked about opening this place up…”

Before she could explain more, there was a loud _crack_ as the side of the crate came free, followed by a waterfall of straw and packing peanuts that revealed several irregularly shaped objects carefully wrapped in protective packaging.

“I’ll get the broom and the big bin,” George offered helpfully as he headed towards the ramp to the basement storage, tossing Lena a quick wink of his optics, “might take me…oh, I don’t know…ten minutes…”

Lena winked back, then looked back to where Emily was running her fingers over the largest piece inside the crate. “They found it in a barn, I guess. Said it needs a fair bit of TLC, but the price was pretty reasonable.”

Emily had knelt down and pulled a pocketknife from her trousers, carefully slitting the packaging and pulling it down to expose what turned out to be the gas tank for a bike, badly scuffed and faded, still attached to the frame, a raised badge on the side that might have once been gold only partially legible after all the wear and tear: **V  N C E  T**

The mechanic almost fell onto her bottom with a gasp, then looked back over to where Lena was grinning at the sight of her shock. “ _Lena_ , this…this can’t… _seriously?_ ”

“Seriously,” she confirmed as she came over to pull her wife back up to her feet, “it’s not an _old_ , old one – I guess it’s from a run of reproductions they made back in the teens, but like I said, I remembered…”

“You did,” Emily murmured, still half dazed and in shock, “you _did_ , oh my _god_ Lena.” As the shock gave way to excitement, she pulled her in for an elated kiss, then turned back to the crate. “Well, don’t just stand there, gorgeous, help me get this thing unwrapped!”

By the time George had returned with a broom, pan, and wheeled trash bin to collect all the packaging, they’d gotten the bike’s frame up onto one of the lifts, with the handlebars and front fork assembly, fenders, wheels, and saddle laid out for careful examination later.

“If this engine has fired in the last thirty years,” Emily observed as she carefully walked around the lift, “I’d be amazed. It’ll need a complete teardown and going-over, obviously new tyres, the glass for the speedometer has a massive crack in it, that dent in the back fender will need put to rights, and all the paint and brightwork needs redone…”

Lena’s stomach flipped. Maybe this hadn’t been such a great plan after all. “And…?”

Emily turned back with a beaming smile, and suddenly all was well. “And it’s _perfect!”_

* * *

Because Emily had insisted paying customer work would always come before personal projects, it took almost three months before they’d finally been able to take a ride together, Emily on her lovingly repaired and restored Black Shadow, and Lena on the little Triumph Bonneville they’d settled on as a good fit for her.

They’d ridden through London and then out to Surrey Hills and enjoyed a beautiful summer day for a joyride, stopping to eat a picnic lunch before eventually making their way back towards home, taking the opportunity for a few stops for photos and just enjoying the view along the way.

“Pretty nice way to spend a day,” Emily observed as they wheeled their bikes into the garage, heading down the ramp so they could be safely put away in the basement, “we’ll have to get out in the autumn. Maybe take a ride around some green belt land when the leaves start to change.”

“Sounds lovely,” Lena agreed, “any thoughts on dinner?”

The mechanic considered that for a moment before she answered. “Pretty sure we have some chicken to use up.”

Lena nodded, then looked down and sighed as her phone began to buzz urgently in her jacket pocket. “Oh, bugger. At least they waited until we got done with the ride…” Pulling the mobile out, she frowned as she read the alert she’d received.

_Sources have advised of possible attack on Omnic Underground tonight w/ suspected TALON involvement. Police resources being activated. Please support their efforts as you see fit._

Lena looked up to see Emily giving her a little smile. “Or maybe you should pick something up on your way home.”

“Yeah,” Lena laughed softly as she rubbed at the back of her head, “sorry, I guess duty calls.”

Emily reached out to gently stroke her cheek. “Go save the day, Double Oh Tracer. Dinner can wait.”

“You really are amazing, you know.” Emily blushed, and Lena collected a quick kiss before she started to unbuckle the accelerator so she could pull as quick a change into her working gear as she could manage. “Never would have guessed we’d be here after the way it all started.”

“Never,” Emily admitted as she helped take the bulky device off, “but you know what?”

Lena’s eyebrows rose as she looked over, halfway through unzipping her motorcycling jacket. “What?”

Emily smiled back at her. “I wouldn’t trade it for the world.”

Lena thought of all the different lives she’d experienced while she’d been lost after her accident. All the possibilities she’d experienced – each lacking one very important person. The person who had become such a vital part of her life that Lena had fought time itself to make it back to her. The beautiful, fierce, incredible woman who had never given up on her despite everything that had happened.

She looked at her wife, standing there with her green eyes shining in the overhead lights, and took a moment to give Emily a tight hug before she got ready to go out and be a hero once again.

“Neither would I.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This all started as some fun brainstorming about just what Emily's day job was, how she might have met Tracer, and just how their relationship worked, and it grew and grew and grew. :)
> 
> I know I said it already, but thank you so much to Sniper and Mizu for their inspiration, W. for edits, the various beta readers, and the OW Writers Guild discord for putting up with me in general. :)
> 
> There's five years of "empty time" between the fall of Overwatch and the Recall, and I think more stories to tell, but this felt like the natural place to end this story, and perhaps tell another later on.
> 
> Double Oh Tracer will return...


End file.
